


In Cold Blood

by oswiin



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Possible smut (first fic so we'll see how it goes), Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, cheating (sort of), season 1 rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21537049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswiin/pseuds/oswiin
Summary: When Veronica Lodge walked into Pops on the last day of summer vacation, Jughead Jones couldn't stop writing about her. Something about this raven-haired princess intrigued and excited him, and, as much as he tried to forget her, he couldn't get her out of his head.
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Jughead Jones, Archie Andrews & Veronica Lodge, Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge, Jughead Jones/Veronica Lodge
Comments: 62
Kudos: 172





	1. Breakfast at Tiffany's

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Jeronica Nation](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+Jeronica+Nation).



Jughead sat at his booth in Pop’s, grey beanie covering his mop of black hair. He tried to write, but he kept running into mental blocks; somehow, writing about real life was harder than fiction. It didn’t help that every time he looked up, he saw his former best friends sitting one booth away, their laughter obnoxiously loud, still so friendly with each other. _I must be the problem, then._

Frustrated, Jughead grabbed the felt crown on his head and threw it down next to the half-drunk cup of coffee that stuck to the table when he tried to take a drink. He stared at the laptop screen before him and began to stress about word choice for the 100th time today. He didn’t see Archie glance at him nervously, like he wanted to apologise, to talk, but wasn’t able to put his feelings into words.

When Jughead looked up, Archie Andrews and Betty Cooper were drinking a strawberry and vanilla milkshake respectively, sharing pictures of their _incredible summers._ “I missed you this summer, Betty. So much.”

Jughead was content to suffer in silence – brooding goes well with his ‘emo heartthrob’ aesthetic – when the bell above the door announced a new arrival. Jughead wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he glanced up, but it certainly wasn’t _her._

Raven hair, dark eyes and a cool smile. His first thought was Emily the Strange. She walked with such grace, such poise, that he could’ve sworn she was floating. She removed the hood of her cape in one, effortless movement and, once cast an appraising glance over the place, walked up to the counter to collect her order.

“Hi, I called in an order. For Lodge.” Jughead could see Archie’s brain go out the window and his eyes latch on to the town’s newest mystery. Betty was none too pleased, but she was doing her best not to show it. When ‘Emily’ glanced in their direction again, she locked eyes with Jughead and smiled. It was cliché to compare it to the sun, and it would also be incorrect. The feeling that washed over him was softer, all-encompassing, like the light from a fire, or the silvery glow of the moon.

That felt cliché too, so he quickly deleted everything he just wrote as she sauntered over to the girl and boy next door. “Hi. Are the onion rings good here?” Archie, dumbstruck, just nodded. She turned back to Pops to order onion rings herself, giving Betty the chance to kick him under the table. They both started to laugh once it stopped hurting.

“Thanks. Me and my mom just moved here from New York, so...” There was an awkward pause as Archie didn't know what to say and Betty seemed to want this conversation to end as soon as possible. “Do you guys go to Riverdale High?”

Now Betty felt the need to speak up: “We do. Both of us. Together.” Archie smiled, his gaze falling back on his best friend despite how attracted he was to the new girl. “We’re sophomores.” In reality, Betty wanted nothing to do with this girl, but her dad always taught her to think the best until you're proven wrong, which she assumed would not take long.

“Me too. I'm filled with dread.” Jughead smiled to himself; the day he wasn't filled with dread would be a sight to behold.

“Why is that?” It was Archie that spoke this time, the football star who never had a reason to dread high school in his life. Veronica leaned in, a wicked smile on her face, as if she was about to reveal some secret that no one else should hear. Jughead instinctively leaned in.

“Are you familiar with the works of Truman Capote?” All three of them answered at once: Betty gave her a blank, confused stare; Archie blinked several times and asked “who?”; and Jughead couldn't help but respond.

“Of course.” Veronica laughed sheepishly and he thought he saw a blush come to her cheek. That made him smile. So unexpected for someone with such poise and confidence. She gave Jughead a once-over and seemed to approve.

‘Emily' continued, speaking to them all this time. “Well, I'm Breakfast at Tiffany's, but this place is strictly In Cold Blood. No offence.” None of them took any; two of them still had no idea what she meant, and the other considered it a compliment. Finally, she held out her hand to Andrews and Cooper, and Jughead contentedly faded back into the surroundings. “Veronica Lodge.”

“Archie Andrews,” he spilled, taking her hand instantly. Jughead rolled his eyes at his former best friend’s eagerness. “This is Betty Cooper.”

“Wait, are you --?”

“—Supposed to give you your tour tomorrow? Yep, I'm your peer mentor.” Veronica smiled again, and Betty tried to hide her displeasure... again.

“Would you like to join us? Maybe we can un-fill you with dread.” Archie just couldn't help himself, earning him another swift kick from his best friend. Veronica glanced hopefully over at Jughead, who had sunk further into the pseudo-plastic seating and looked like sulking five-year-old. She turned back severely disappointed; luckily, she had become an expert at not showing it.

“My mom's waiting for me. But, maybe I'll see you... all of you... tomorrow?” Archie and Betty nodded politely, but it was Jughead she was watching. He perked up a little and gave a nod, hoping, but not fully believing, she was talking to him. With a satisfied smile, Veronica picked up her order and floated away the same way she had floated in. As soon as the bell rang again, Jughead returned to his laptop and began typing furiously...

_As for us, we were still talking about the July 4th tragedy, when a new mystery rolled into town..._


	2. Romeo and Juliet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica defends herself and Jughead from some vicious rumours, and Jughead still can't get a read on the new girl. But he'll be dammed if he stops trying.

**Jughead**

_I think many of us, maybe the entire town had been hoping against hope that somehow Jason Blossom hadn’t drowned on July 4 th…_

Ever since the dance that Jughead refused to attend, everyone at Riverdale High had been whispering about two things: Jason Blossom and Veronica Lodge. Jughead did his best to drown them out, but, to his dismay, people could not be entirely avoided.

Jason was on everyone’s lips but, more importantly, the bullet that had killed him. Archie was wracked with guilt. Jughead realised, perhaps before everyone else, that Cheryl might be too. _If Jason had been shot, not drowned, then Cheryl was probably a liar._ Still, Jughead resolved to think no more on it until the autopsy was completed; there was a more immediate concern on his mind: the girl with the raven hair.

Veronica walked the halls like a social pariah, but she didn’t need to. Most people had been laughing for months about Betty’s obvious crush, and even Jughead was a little disappointed in his old friend. Maybe there was something he wasn’t seeing, but even from afar he could tell that Archie was only her friend. Though, there were moments when he doubted…

Archie and Betty walked into school together that morning, so clearly the wound was not that deep. Jughead and Archie had fallen out completely over less. When Veronica passed him by in the halls that morning, box of cupcakes in hand, she didn’t even glance his way. For some stupid reason, that made him upset. He slammed his locker shut and stalked away in a mood, headphones over his felt crown, a grim pout on his face.

They passed by each other without a word, until Reggie Mantle, looking like one of the rich kids from _The Goonies_ , collided with his shoulder purposefully, then pretended to be hurt. “Watch it, Wednesday Addams!” Jughead was prepared to shrug it off like he always did when an unexpectedly powerful voice cut through the chatter in the hall.

“How about you watch yourself, jerk!” Jughead turned to see Reggie towering over Veronica, but somehow, she made it seem like they were squaring off, face to face. In fact, if he was being biased (which he obviously was), he would say Veronica even seemed taller than the cocky football player.

“Ooh, feisty! I like that.” The mates Reggie surrounded himself with to carry his massive ego chuckled, but Veronica was less than amused. Jughead stayed to watch; he usually hated people making a scene or stepping in for him, but for her, he would make an exception. He saw Archie and Cheryl, never without her minions, further down the hall, watching enraptured at this display; even Cheryl never bothered with those assholes, finding it too difficult to rebuff their insults.

Jughead lingered just behind Reggie's towering form, content to watch her work. “Name?” she asked matter-of-factly. There was a sting to her words, hidden amongst the prep school accent, that made Reggie answer almost sheepishly. “Well, _Reginald_ ,” she continued, like a schoolteacher berating her kids, “No one cares what you like. Apologise for being such a dick, and we’ll say no more about it.”

Reggie regained enough of his bravado to say, “No way, new girl.” He looked back at his friends to laugh, but it only lasted a second before he was doubled over, Veronica twisting his ear with such power for one so small. “Ow, ow, ow!” In this position, Reggie looked so... weak.

“Aw, is the little baby in pain?” she mocked. “Apologise!” Reggie was silent; at least, he made no apology, just the whimpering of a child half his size. She twisted again, and an apology came stuttering out of him like a broken tap. She let go, and he almost ran out of the hall.

Veronica brushed down her clothes, made sure her cupcakes were in order, and resumed her usual poised appearance as easily as flipping a switch. She winked at Jughead, though, again, he may have imagined it, and sauntered away past the open-mouthed crowds. Jughead couldn’t help but stare.

Mr. Weatherbee’s lacklustre drone cut through on the PA system, and Jughead mostly tried to tune him out. It was about Jason, obviously, the upcoming pep rally and blah, blah blah. The only thing that caught his interest was Archie, who had taken to staring at Jason’s memorial and through the window to Weatherbee’s office, in a most suspicious manner.

Jughead, being himself, had no choice but to investigate.

* * *

**Veronica**

Their first lesson on a Monday was biology. When Veronica entered the class, she noticed the boy from the diner, the first Truman Capote fan she had encountered, sat at the front of the class. He was hunched over, a slightly disgusting beanie covering his jet black her.

Veronica’s eyes lingered on him as she walked past. She couldn’t help but be intrigued.

Everyone was gathered together in small huddles, whispering about Jason, and Cheryl’s boorish announcement earlier. Not for the first time, Veronica reflected on what an interesting and perplexing human behaviour gossip was. Considering past experience, she was glad she was not involved in it.

She found an empty table at the back of the class, eyeing Betty as she muttered frantically with Kevin, their heads pressed together. When Dr. Phylum ordered them to find lab partners, she jumped at the chance to be with Betty. Her dad always taught her to follow up on success.

She greeted Betty with a bright smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was certain Betty thought her ignorant or unaware, but Veronica could tell when someone was play-acting. She’d been doing it her whole life. She also knew that Betty was making a judgement based on very little, and she only needed time to come around.

Usually, Veronica had no patience for prejudice. But Betty was the only friend she had, and she was in desperate need of one of those.

...

As Veronica and the rest of the River Vixens stretched after practice, she sat next to the blonde, who still viewed her with contempt, and attempted some friendly conversation. After Betty’s outburst at lunch, she would be difficult to cheer up; luckily, Veronica was an expert at breaking the ice.

“After this practice, I’ll totally need a pedicure. You?” Betty mumbled an excuse about homework and fell silent. _Not as great as I thought, then._ Still, Veronica was nothing if not determined, so she tried again. “I know everyone grieves differently, but Cheryl is hosting a pep rally to cope with her loss. That’s either brilliant or psychotic or both.” Veronica let out a small chuckle as she grabbed her foot and stretched as far as she could manage.

“Yeah, well, at least Cheryl’s not putting on an act,” Betty remarked, with a rather pointed glance and raised eyebrows. “Pretending she’s a butterfly when she’s really a wasp.” In that moment, Veronica was fighting the urge not to punch her in the face. Thank God being a better person didn’t mean she had to become a doormat.

Veronica gave the same apology she had already given, and, because of that, it came with extra venom. But Betty couldn’t let it go. “You know, Archie and I were fine before you got here.” Veronica couldn’t help but laugh. Betty looked down on her like she was a spoilt child, and Veronica Lodge refused to be demeaned.

“If by ‘fine’ you mean he was oblivious, and you were pining after him in quiet desperation.” Veronica had been on edge all day, and one more snap-back from Betty might send her over the edge.

“We were _friends_ at least.” Veronica had dealt with people blaming her for their problems for years, but she had expected more from Betty. She should’ve known. _You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Veronica,_ she told herself. Though, usually, the contents of the book were better than veneer on the outside, not the other way around. “You don’t know me, Veronica!” Betty turned away from her, content for that to be the last word. Veronica wasn’t.

“It is not my fault he doesn’t like you!” Betty turned on her heel, slowly, staring daggers at her raven-haired ‘friend.’ But no-one did death-stares better than Veronica Lodge. She sighed, deciding that this would not be the hill she was going to die on. “It’s no-one’s fault, it’s just how it is. Most of the time the people we like don’t like us back.” Betty rolled her eyes, and Veronica made a mental note to punch something once she got home.

“Romeo and Juliet are the exception not the rule.”

* * *

**Jughead**

Jones leaned against the counter by the vending machine, his usual scowl painting his pale features. Reggie was sitting on the couches, with Moose Mason and the other football jerks Jughead was unfortunate enough to share an existence with. He briefly glanced at Archie, struggling to buy some M&Ms with his torn, crinkled dollar bill.

After what he had seen, Archie was forever changed in Jughead’s eyes. _A teacher?_ He thought, he _hoped_ , Archie had more sense than that. When their eyes met, Jughead turned away quickly, and his steely blue gaze immediately landed on Veronica.

She was sitting on the arm of a chair, sharing it with Chuck Clayton, possibly the worst offender amongst the football team. She had coffee in one hand, phone in the other, yet he could tell she still had one ear listening in on the conversation. Apart from a few lines about Jason, he had written about her non-stop since she first drifted into Pop’s. And he was just as fascinated as ever.

Jughead’s eyes wandered to her lips. She wore a dark shade of purple lipstick, matte, a shade that matched her skirt. _And my hoodie_ , he thought wryly. Her lips curved slightly at the corner, as if they were being tugged, and Jughead briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss them.

Jughead could thank Jellybean for his knowledge of ‘girl stuff’ as she so derisively called it. As soon as his sister crossed his mind, his scowl was replaced by a melancholy frown, and Reggie’s obnoxiously loud voice managed to cut through his inner monologue.

“Let’s think about it: if a kid at Riverdale killed Jason, it’s not gonna be a jock, right?” he stated, throwing a football at Moose’s head as he said it. Jughead could tell where this was going, and he braced for impact. “Isn’t always some spooky, scrawny, pathetic internet troll, too busy writing his manifesto to get laid?” Veronica’s eyes flicked to Jughead at that, involuntarily as she turned away ashamed as soon as he noticed. “Some smug, moody, serial killer fanboy freak. Like Jughead!”

Jughead looked Reggie dead in the eyes and did absolutely nothing. He couldn’t take on Reggie’s towering frame, and he had four friends there to help out even if he could. Jughead didn’t have one. “What was it like, suicide squad,” Reggie continued, a cocky grin on his infinitely punchable face, “when you shot Jason? You didn’t do stuff to the body, did you? Like… after.”

Jughead smirked at him. “It’s called necrophilia, Reggie. Can you spell it?” His eyes immediately went to Veronica, to see if she found him funny. The tiny chuckle she released nearly made Jughead beam with pride. When Reggie leaped over the couch, ready to pummel him into the ground, Veronica set down her cup and looked about ready to punch him in the face. Jughead didn’t flinch; he almost resented Archie stepping in to help. _It’s not like we’re friends._

“Boys…” Veronica started, a calming, condescending tone to her lilting voice. But Reggie just couldn’t stop being an obnoxious jerk, could he? He should hardly have been surprised when Archie gave him a hard shove in the chest, and they began wrestling on the floor like children. No-one expected Archie to be knocked out cold, but some small part of Jughead felt like he deserved it.

...

The pep rally had ended in disaster. Cheryl had some sort of panic attack; Veronica went running after her and Betty followed suit. At least he and Archie were friends again. Or, at least working on it.

They stumbled into Pop’s, grinning at some joke Archie had told and, like magnets, their eyes found the two girls sitting in a both, grinning just like they were. Betty’s shake was vanilla, as always, and Veronica had opted for chocolate. Jughead’s favourite. Her gaze met theirs and Jughead stilled, entranced by the oxymoron that was her stare; intense darkness and, simultaneously, immense light.

Jughead was certain she was looking at Archie, as was Betty when she turned and saw them both. She turned back to her friend, before fixing her eyes on them once more, giving Jughead more time to admire. It suddenly occurred to him that, stupidly, he had never told Veronica his name. He wasn’t even certain if he could get a word out in her presence. _How did her hair look so good, in all this rain?_

“Do you guys wanna join us?” It was Betty who spoke, a genuine smile on her face. Jughead jumped at the opportunity, though tried not to seem too eager. Archie had a daft smile on his face, so Jughead took that as assent.

“Yes, but only if you’re treating.” Both girls laughed, and Jughead can’t help but take a little pride in that. Veronica held out her hand for a proper introduction, but Jughead had a better idea. Leaping over the back of the booth and into the seat next to her, he tried to look as casual and effortless as possible. “Jughead Jones III.”

He sat as close to her as he could get away with. Veronica scoffed. “Jughead Jones III,” she repeated, not quite believing him. Still, he could tell she liked the uniqueness of it. It wasn’t long before they were all laughing riotously, as though the fractures between them had never existed.

_To someone on the outside peering in, it would’ve looked like there were four people in that booth. But I was there. And I can tell you, really, there were only three. A blonde girl, a raven-haired girl, and the luckiest redheaded boy in the universe…_

But, if Jughead were truly as observant as he thought, he would’ve noticed that same raven-haired girl spent most of that night watching the boy next to her, his lopsided grin, and the arm he casually draped over her bare shoulders.


	3. In Cold Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty convinces Jughead to join the school newspaper, and an interview with Dilton Doiley opens a dangerous can of worms. Veronica also joins the Blue and Gold, and has to face down some enemies of her own.

**Jughead**

_Guilt, innocence. Good, evil. Life, death._

_As the shadows around Riverdale deepened, the lines that separated these polar opposites blurred and distorted. "I'm guilty," Cheryl said in biology class. But of what?_

As more pieces of the puzzle that was Jason Blossom's murder began to fall into place, Jughead frustratingly found himself more perplexed than ever. No-one knew how they fit together, and worse, they only had three pieces. That made Betty's invitation a welcome reprieve, and an inconvenience at the same time.

"If print journalism is dead, what am I doing here?"

Jughead stepped into the dimly lit space the school newspaper used to occupy. Every outdated computer and bookshelf were hidden by white cloth, whether to preserve them or make everyone forget the paper ever existed, he couldn't say. 

Betty was grinning at him from across the room, her blonde ponytail as tight as ever. Perhaps even tighter.

"The Blue and Gold isn't dead, Juggie," she said. Jughead cringed a little when she used that name. He and Betty had barely spoken in months, and only Jellybean and his mom had ever called him that. "It's just… dormant. But waking up."

Betty had always been too much of an optimist for his liking. They both ran their fingers across the tables, and both came away covered in dust. It blanketed every surface like a film, and Jughead had little faith in revivals or reboots.

She pressed on with her attempt to cajole him, "You're writing a novel, right? About Jason Blossoms murder?" Jughead absent-mindedly picked up a magnifying glass from the stained wood desk. It had been years since he'd seen one of these.

"I am," he responded cautiously. He never liked speaking about his writing before it was finished. He fancied that his reclusiveness made him a true author, even if he had never been published.

"Riverdale's very own _In Cold Blood_ ," he stated, holding up the glass and squinting through it, like those classic detectives in those black-and-white movies he loved so much. 

"Which started out as a series of articles." Betty had found an in road. _Damnit,_ he thought. Now that she had, she wouldn't let go until he'd given in. "I'm hoping you'll come write for the Blue and Gold."

Jughead did his best to weasel his way out, but Betty had a way of convincing people she was right, and this time was no different.

"Look, Juggie," she said it again, and Jughead cringed, _again_. Betty seemed not to notice and pressed on. "Jason's death changed Riverdale. People don't wanna admit that but it's true, we all feel it. Nothing this bad was ever supposed to happen here, but it did."

Betty had a point. Jughead thought about the sign at the entrance to Riverdale - 'The town with pep!' - and how that suddenly stopped being true overnight. 

He was ready to accept, but let it never be said that Jughead Jones just gave in. "Would I get complete freedom?"

Betty stuttered through her acceptance - that she'd help, act as editor, and work on stories of her own, but ultimately Jason Blossom was his story.

That was enough for him. Jughead needed something to get him out of this writing slump, and he couldn't always rely on Veronica Lodge to appear whenever he drew a blank. 

"Knock, knock." As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the raven-haired socialite appeared at the door, clad in purple and black, choosing to say the words instead of actually knock because, _of course she did_. "Am I interrupting something?"

Jughead watched as Betty stiffened and plastered on a smile. _Odd. I thought they were friends._ "What do you want, Veronica?" 

She beamed and stepped inside, casting a brief glance over her surroundings and deciding a makeover would be the next thing on her list.

"Well," she began, "I heard you talking about this newspaper idea and I wanted to see if I could help."

Jughead wished he had popcorn to watch this unfold. Betty chewed on her lip and began with easiest excuse, "Oh, that's sweet of you, V, but we don't need anyone else on the team right now."

To Jughead's surprise, Veronica didn't look angry at all. Rather, she smiled and responded politely with, "It’s just the two of you, and you don’t need any help? Are you both gonna act as reporters?"

They nodded, and Veronica replaced politeness with a knowing smile. _She had a plan, and she'd be damned if it wasn't going to work._

"And I guess you, Betty, are going to act as the editor?"

Betty became unsure, as if she couldn't tell where Veronica was going. "Well, yes, I'm perfectly capable," she muttered. Veronica had arched one eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest. Everyone knew who was in control here. 

Jughead was contented to sit in silence and observe. 

"I'm sure you are, B," Veronica continued. She moved to put her weight on one leg, making her seem even more powerful than before. "But no newspaper in the history of… ever has had the editor and a reporter be the same person. I bet that fancy writer you interned with said the same." 

Jughead had to admit, she got Betty there, and the Cooper girl knew it. If that were the case, forget impartiality, and grammatical mistakes could be easily missed without a fresh pair of eyes. 

Betty fell silent. Jughead really shouldn't have chimed in, but he did anyway. "She's got a point, Betty." 

Betty still refused to answer, so Veronica began rattling off credentials, including being editor of her last school newspaper, and interning for Salman Rushdie, which even Jughead was impressed by. 

Betty finally looked up, saw Jughead's gaze, and sighed in defeat. "Fine, you can be our editor." Veronica squealed with delight, but Betty wasn't done talking. "We're mostly doing stories on Jason Blossom. Once Jughead follows this first lead, you can make assignments based on what he finds." Veronica nodded along, understanding every word. 

"I can't wait to get started," and Jughead actually believed that. He liked her enthusiasm. In fact, it seemed the more he learned about Veronica Lodge, the more there was to like. 

"First things first for you and me, Betty," Veronica had a glint in her eye. A real passion, a real plan. "This place needs a serious makeover."

That actually made Betty laugh, and they got to work immediately. Jughead chuckled to himself and decided to leave them both to it. His next assignment, one Dilton Doiley, would be challenge enough for him.

He turned at the door and watched Veronica get straight to work. He tried to remember what it was like before she arrived. Then he wondered if he even wanted to know.

* * *

**Veronica**

As soon as she arrived at her locker the morning after her date with Chuck, Kevin pounced on her, demanding to know how it went. He was hot, no doubt about that, but his intellect and conversation weren’t the stuff of Oscar Wilde. Veronica may seem like a pampered socialite and not much else, but she couldn’t live a life without a challenge.

A life of boredom was not one Veronica Lodge dared to contemplate.

Not for the first time, she wondered if that writer - _Jughead, was it?_ \- had a girlfriend, or any other kind of _friend_. As much as she wanted to know, it felt awkward asking Betty or Archie, given the rocky start to both relationships.

Tina and Ginger sauntered past the trio, asking her something utterly bewildering about a ‘sticky maple.’ Veronica assumed it was more Riverdale nonsense that she didn’t quite yet understand, but then every single phone but hers seemed to go off at once.

“What is it?” Veronica was familiar with the mass text and it had never been something good. Kevin wordlessly handed her his phone, his eyes wide with anxiety. What she saw almost set off her gag reflex: her and Chuck in his car, with what looked like a maple syrup stain across her face. She checked the comments and was repulsed. “What the hell is a sticky maple?”

“It’s kinda what it sounds like,” Kevin answered, sounding more nervous than ever. “It’s a Riverdale thing.” Veronica rounded on him, fury in her eyes, and he nearly jumped back. None of this was his fault, but he could tell no-one in the vicinity would be safe when Mount Lodge exploded.

“No, Kevin, it’s a slutshaming thing.” Veronica looked about ready to commit bloody murder, “and I am neither a slut, nor will I be shamed by someone named, _excuse me_ , Chuck Clayton. Does he really think he can get away with this?” She read more of the comments, but it only filled her with more righteous fury. “Does he not know who I am? I will cut the brakes of his souped-up phallic symbol.” Her voice was filled with venom, her dark eyes with vengeance.

Betty proposed all the usual good-girl solutions - speaking to Principal Weatherbee, exposing him in the Blue and Gold, etc. As much as Veronica believed in the power of print journalism, Betty’s naïveté was astounding. Guys like Chuck don’t know how to use their words, so why should she?

Shoving the phone, and Kevin, up against the locker, she stormed off, allowing Betty to follow after her. “I don’t follow rules,” she announced, “I make them. And when necessary, I break them.” 

The daughter of Hiram and Hermione Lodge never played around, especially not with matters of consent. Betty was struggling to keep up. Her bright, blue eyes were like dinner plates, but she clearly wanted to help.

Veronica turned the corner, pushing past every student in her way. “You wanna help me get revenge on Chuck, Betty? Awesome. But you better be ready to go full dark, no stars.” Betty wasn’t sure if she was ready, but she followed anyway.

…

Veronica burst into the boys’ locker room, not stopping regardless of who objected. That is, until she ran into a shirtless Jughead Jones, fresh from the shower and covered only by a towel. His shaggy, black hair was dripping wet and he seemed both startled and amused to see her here, “Veronica?” 

His towel nearly dropped to the floor, and he scrambled to cover himself again. Archie was there too, and equally as surprised, but Veronica had no time for them. Betty tried to hide her blush when she saw him.

Veronica took a moment to subtly admire Jughead’s form, but she concealed it well. “Move aside, Jones, I’m not here for you.” She pushed him away with ease, and Jughead was left to stare after her, open-mouthed.

Once she found Chuck, she presented him with the disgusting image and dared him to try and explain himself. Chuck, as she expected, just laughed her off and reminded Veronica of what she apparently _asked_ for.

Veronica nearly gagged when he said that, but she swallowed her fury and fixed him with a devastating glare. Behind him, Moose and a few others stopped laughing and backed down, so that was something. But Chuck’s eyes were still full of laughter.

“Come on, V,” he sneered, “don’t be so coy. You’re not exactly virgin territory after your closet date with Andrews.”

Now, it was Betty’s turn to defend Veronica, saying, “Okay, that is beyond irrelevant. You’re not allowed to go around humiliating girls for any reason.” Veronica smiled to herself - if anything could bond the two, fighting back against sexist assholes would be it. Betty stuttered out a final word, “jerk,” which was a little weak, but the blonde was trying her best.

Veronica stepped up. Just like with Reggie, she was infinitely shorter than Chuck, but at the same time infinitely more terrifying. Jughead leaned against a locker, watching her work.

“I’m going to spell this out so your tiny, shallow, one-track mind can grasp it,” Veronica shoved the phone in his face, leaving Chuck no choice but to shrink back a little. _And that’s how a Lodge gets the upper hand. Always._

“Take. This. The hell. Down.” Jughead could see it, Archie could see it, Even Betty could see it: Veronica had won.

Too bad Chuck didn’t see it that way. “See, that high tone, bitch attitude may have worked on the betas you dated in New York…” Veronica laughed at him, a laugh that said she had never dated a ‘beta’ in her life. Chuck continued, making Veronica and Jughead both think he had lost his wits: “But this is Bulldog territory. So, please fight back.” Chuck grinned in victory, scanned her up and down with a predatory gaze, and walked away.

If he was able to see past the end of his nose, he’d see the glint in Veronica’s eyes and the hint of a smile on her glossed lips.

She would fight back… and she’d win.

* * *

**Jughead**

_We crave absolutes. They comfort us. But life is infinitely more complex than that._

Jughead sat on a desk in the Blue and Gold office, facing nervous Dilton Doiley, who was sweating so much his glasses kept slipping down his nose. Betty leaned against the stained wood behind him. This felt like the most casual interrogation he'd ever witnessed.

"If you publish the story saying I fired that gun, my life would be ruined." Dilton, ever composed, ever the controlling Scout master, was crumbling before Jughead's eyes. The knitted jumper Jughead wore was growing itchy, but he refused to give up his powerful persona, so he crossed his arms and tried not to think about it. "I'll be banished from the Adventure Scouts, and charged with a misdemeanour," Dilton urged.

Jughead looked back at Betty, who seemed unaffected by his pleas.

"So, what if I can give you a better story," Dilton pressed on. He was determined, Jughead had to give him that. Betty perked up, suddenly intrigued, and Jughead was just as eager to learn what Doiley was hiding up his sleeve. "If I tell you what I know, promise me the gunshot stays between us."

Betty stepped out from behind the desk to lean beside Jughead, adopting the same stance. "You have our word," she said, "as journalists."

Jughead leaned in and tried to whisper to her, "Shouldn't we run this by Veronica?" Betty shrugged him off. As much as Jughead's curiosity was piqued, keeping something like this from their editor didn't sit right with him. But they needed this story, so he set his notebook and pen aside, and waited patiently.

Dilton leaned in, as if he was involving Betty and Jughead in some sort of conspiracy. "I saw something at Sweet Water River," he whispered, "something nobody else saw. Miss Grundy's car by the river's edge. She was there.

Jughead knew this of course, and his reaction was minimal, at best. For someone who _didn't_ know, Betty was awfully good at containing her surprise. Her blue eyes expanded, her lips parted, but that was it. Nothing compared to her usual melodrama. Jughead's brow furrowed with worry; Archie was certainly in for it now, and what could he do but sit and watch the car crash unfold?

_Despite all of our recent troubles, I would have done anything to protect Archie. But Dilton Doiley had just opened Pandora's Box, and now there was nothing I, or anyone could do to save him..._


	4. The Last Picture Show

**Jughead**

_It’s been a week since the discovery of Jason Blossom’s body. But his death is not the first, nor would it be the last casualty the town of Riverdale would suffer._

"The drive-in closing is just one more nail in the coffin that is Riverdale."

Jughead was ranting again, whilst Betty, Kevin and Veronica yawned behind their hands and pretended to be listening. He didn't care. He glanced through the neon shutters that separated him in Pop's from the cruel outside world and carried on regardless. This needed to be said. "No, forget Riverdale. In the coffin of the American Dream. As the godfather of indie cinema Quentin Tarantino likes to say --"

"Please, God," Kevin cut him off, pleading forcefully, "no more Quentin Tarantino references."

Jughead glared at him. "What? I'm pissed! And not just about losing my job." Jughead sat back in the booth, eyeing his friends to see if any of them gave a shred of a damn about what was happening. Betty was yawning behind her hand, Kevin’s eyes were wide with frustration, and Veronica was listening, but only just. “The Twilight Drive-In should mean something to us. People should be trying to save it.”

Veronica leaned forward, with that look she got when she was about to lecture someone, and Jughead prayed that, for once, he was reading her wrong. “Jughead, I get it. But, in this age of Netflix and illegal downloads, do people really want to watch a movie in a car?” Her eyes were sympathetic, but her words stung. “I mean, who even goes there?”

“People who want to buy crack,” Kevin stated.

“And cinephiles,” Jughead shot back, “and car enthusiasts, right Betty?” Kevin was being dramatic, as usual, but Jughead was slightly surprised at Veronica’s ambivalence. Sure, at first he pegged her as a shallow socialite, but she proved she loved classic film and cinema. Surely she would be with him on this?

Betty was somewhere else, and no help at all. He knew why, so she was off the hook this time.

“Look, Jug,” Veronica intervened. He decided that he quite liked when she used that name. “You and I know both know very well, the American Dream isn’t dead.” Jughead was curious as to where she was going, and he lightened a little thinking she was on his side. “It never existed in the first place.” And the light went out. “Otherwise, what were F. Scott Fitzgerald and John Steinbeck writing about this whole time?”

Whilst depressing, she was right, and he knew it. Betty and Kevin went blank during this discussion, leaving him and Veronica alone in that booth, completely alone.

“Anyway,” Jughead began, to refocus the conversation, “it’s closing because the town owns it but didn’t invest in it. So when some anonymous buyer made Mayor Macoy and offer --”

Veronica scoffed. “‘Anonymous buyer?’” She was laughing at him, he could tell. Jughead hated every second of it. “What do they have to hide? No one cares.”

“I do!” That just seemed to amuse Veronica even more, and Jughead wondered if he would be able to hate her. Or even dislike her. He felt like he should, given the way she laughed, and he resolved to try as hard as he could. But, something told him that wouldn’t be possible.

“Also, you guys should come to closing night.” Jughead’s voice was much calmer than he intended. “I was thinking _American Graffiti_ , or is that too obvious?” Veronica nodded, even though he intended that to be rhetorical.

“I vote for anything starring Audrey Hepburn, or Cate Blanchett,” Kevin contributed. His eyes expanded again, in that way unique to Kevin Keller when he thinks he has an idea. “Or _The Talented Mr. Ripley_.” Jughead was not enamoured of any of those choices. Veronica was ruminating on something, so he turned to Betty instead.

She broke out of her deep thoughts and blinked rapidly, suddenly confronted with everyone’s eyes on her. “Uh, sorry, I was just thinking, um…” Betty thought for a moment, “How about _Rebel Without a Cause_?” She and Jughead chuckled at the thought. She was on to a winner.

“That’s a great idea, B, but may I make a suggestion?” Veronica interjected. Betty tried not to roll her eyes. “Jug, you’ve got to go big.” She started counting on her fingers for each point she made. “Humphrey Bogart. Lauren Bacall. A mysterious young woman. A burly private detective...” She was leading him somewhere, her tone suggestive and eyes mischievous.

Jughead finished for her. “ _The Big Sleep_ ,” he said, grinning and nodding his acceptance. The look in their eyes was playful, like a joke only they understood. Betty shrugged; she really wasn’t that invested. 

The sound of a hand colliding violently with the table diverted everyone's attention. Cheryl had her brilliantly manicured claw clasped over the cash for her drinks, preventing Hermione Lodge from taking it. "Make sure _all_ of that goes in the till. Lodges are known to have sticky fingers."

Veronica was out of her seat in an instant, prepared to open fire on the redheaded she-devil. Hermione held up a hand to silence her daughter and responded herself, "Cheryl, I went to school with your mother. She didn't know the difference between having money and having class, either."

Cheryl was left dumbfounded and slack-jawed as Hermione walked away with her money, and Veronica returned to her booth, a satisfied smile on her perfect face.

“Now, that’s an odd combo of people.” Kevin’s announcement made Betty, Jughead and Veronica all follow his gaze to see Archie, Mr. Andrews and Miss Grundy entering the diner... _together._ That _was_ an odd combo to everyone else, but Jughead and Betty weren’t nearly so perplexed. Jughead eyed the blonde nervously, knowing what she might do, and praying she wouldn’t.

Betty stood, and despite all his efforts, Jughead couldn’t get her to sit down again. She made a beeline for their booth, and Jughead watched anxiously as Betty and Archie stepped outside. He sunk down into the plastic seating and tried to discreetly watch them through the shuttered windows. As usual, Veronica’s voice cut through his concentration until nearly all his attention was on her.

“What’s happening out there? Do we know? Is it about me?” Veronica rattled off questions like a machine gun, giving Jughead little time to keep up.

“I have a strong inkling,” he muttered only half listening. “And no. Also, I’d let it go.” Jughead would do anything to protect Archie, even if it was _from_ Veronica, so he should at least try to discourage her curiosity.

She smiled at him, condescendingly as per usual. “Yes, but you’re you and I’m me.” She slid out from the booth. "You do you, girl. I'll be back." Jughead watched her float away, wearing the cape he saw her in the first time they met. Kevin leaned in to whisper, as if they were sharing some dark secret. 

"What was it like before she got here?" he asked, unnerving Jughead with this wide, unblinking eyes. "I honestly can't remember." 

If Jughead was being honest, neither could he. Veronica Lodge, through no fault of her own, had taken over their lives completely, until Jughead couldn't remember a time before. 

Or, perhaps it was more that he couldn't imagine his life without her in it. 

* * *

**Veronica**

_“You're not very tall, are you?” Martha Vickers was beautiful, dressed in a black top and polka-dot shorts, eyeing Bogart with her flirtatious gaze. Her hair was gorgeously curled and glossy, despite the grainy film._

_“Well, I, uh, I try to be,” he responded with a gracious smile._

That night, the Drive-In was full of stationary cars, lined up in uneven rows to watch the big screen. The black and white thriller had pretty much everyone enthralled, not least Jughead Jones. Even though he had seen it half a hundred times, sitting in that projection booth, the best seat in the house, Bacall and Bogart still captured his attention like no other pair.

Veronica snuggled next to Kevin under thin blankets, popcorn and cherry cola in hand. They sat in the back of his dad’s truck, the cold, stiff metal making her legs ache, but she didn’t seem to mind. That is, until Cheryl showed up in classic, demanding fashion. 

“Move over, outcasts.” Begrudgingly, they did, allowing Cheryl to take up far more space next to them than was necessary. They settled into a stony silence, leaving Veronica to wonder how she allowed her experience to be ruined so fully.

That’s when the gang started up their inane racket. They threw cans, bottles, shouted and yelled at each other, and Veronica was just about ready to bury her head in the ground. Kevin tried to ‘shush’ them, but it only seemed to make things worse. Cheryl was more than content to chew on a redvine and pretend the problem didn’t exist, but that’s not how Veronica was raised. She stood, Louboutin heels making the truck beneath them rattle, and faced them.

“Hey!” That caught their attention. “Wanna know what happens to a snake when a Louboutin heel steps on it? Shut the hell up, or you’ll find out!” The applause she received from other watchers prompted Veronica to give a small curtsy and a smile before rejoining her friends. She pulled the blankets over her legs to keep out the cold.

“I cannot believe you just threatened a gangbanger.” Kevin regarded her with terrified, awe-filled eyes.

“I’ve dealt with worse in the East Village,” she responded, which was true. The way some people treat their shoes in New York was more scary to her than any biker gang, violent or otherwise. “I just hate when people disrespect my cinematic experience.” That reminded Veronica of a certain redhead sitting to her right, sucking on a redvine without a care in the world. 

“More popcorn?” Veronica took the popcorn bucket and shoved it at Cheryl, rather passive aggressively. Instead of being forced to move, she shoved it back at Kevin with a smile as red as her hair.

“Yeah, Kev, how ‘bout a refill.” It clearly wasn’t a question, and Kevin was not well-equipped to take on the likes of Cheryl Blossom, so he went sullenly at her request. Not wanting to spend a moment alone with the antichrist to her left, Veronica decided to join him, but she was on a mission of her own.

She jumped from the truck bed, landing unsteadily on the tarmac, and sauntered towards the ramshackle, wooden building that held the projector, and the person she was looking for. Before she could reach it, her mother, Hermione Lodge, crossed the parking lot a ways in front and disappeared behind the snack hut, glancing surreptitiously in both directions as she did. Veronica felt she had no choice but to investigate. Luckily, years of sneaking out with friends had made Veronica incredibly light-footed.

What she saw was upsetting, but sadly not unexpected. Her mom was speaking with a Southside Serpent and handing over cash, like some sort of back alley drug deal. She took some pictures on her phone, knowing she couldn’t stay long. But Hermione Lodge would be hearing of this later. 

* * *

**Jughead**

Jughead liked the peace his booth offered. No interruptions, no intrusions, and his view was never blocked by some massive SUV. His walls were plastered with Alfred Hitchcock posters, and the thin walls did just enough to keep out the wintry air. It was the best seat in the house.

A dainty knock at the door disturbed his peace. Without waiting for an answer, Veronica Lodge stepped inside, her petite form obscured by that gothic cloak of hers. Jughead jumped up, doing his best to hide his bag, clothes and the sheets spread across a small, ratty bed. He silently prayed that she didn’t notice.

“Hey, Jughead,” she said, beaming. He felt compelled to return the smile. It was odd to have Veronica standing in his bedroom, even if she didn’t know it. He felt self-conscious all of a sudden, then mentally chastised himself for caring what someone like Veronica Lodge thought about him or his life. “Enjoying the movie?” she asked.

“Um, uh, yeah,” he stuttered, doing his best to avoid eye-contact, “always do.” Her eyes seemed almost black in this light, and they were smiling as she scanned the room curiously. “What, uh, are you doing up here, Veronica?” he asked, trying to divert her attention away from his dire circumstances. Her eyes returned to meet his.

“I came to ask you if you wanted to join us, down with the plebs,” she joked, biting her lip as she said it. Jughead had to force himself not to stare at them, which seemed so red and inviting he almost didn’t hear what she was saying. “I know you have a great view from here, but I could really use the company.” He could tell she was frustrated about something, and he _was_ getting a little lonely up here.

“I don’t know, Veronica,” he mumbled. The prospect of a night around actual people sounded horrifying, but Veronica was smiling so sweetly at him that he found it difficult to say no.

“Oh, come on,” she pleaded, pouting and gazing up at him through long, dark eyelashes. “It’ll be fun. I just hope you don’t mind me quoting all of Bacall’s dialogue.” She was smirking playfully at him, and Jughead had to stifle a laugh. _How could we be so different, but so similar?_ he wondered.

“As long as you don’t mind me doing the same.” They both laughed then, and Jughead knew then what his book would truly be about.

…

They arrived back at the truck and found it empty, the blankets sprawled across the metal bed. Veronica wasn’t surprised; Cheryl no doubt got bored, and she noticed Kevin making so much eye-contact with one of those ‘serpents’ she thought they might need a chaperone.

_“So you're a private detective.” Lauren Bacall gave her future husband a once-over with dark, mysterious eyes. “I didn't know they existed, except in books. Or else they were greasy little men snooping around hotel corridors. My, you're a mess, aren't you?”_

_Humphrey Bogart, playing the model for movie detectives, Phillip Marlowe, was sweating like a pig. Still, he clapped back as good as he got, “I'm not very tall either. Next time, I'll come on stilts, wear a white tie and carry a tennis racket.”_

Jughead and Veronica huddled beneath the scratchy tartan, sitting much too close for two people who seemed to be less than friends. They watched the big screen in contented silence, sharing popcorn and completely riveted by the film they had both seen too many times to count.

 _“You know, I don't see what there is to be cagey about, Mr. Marlowe. And I don't like your manners.”_ Veronica was mouthing along to the dialogue flawlessly. _Huh,_ Jughead thought, _so she wasn’t kidding._

Jughead leaned in to whisper, “I'm not crazy about yours.” His eyes stayed with Bogart on the screen, but Veronica was watching him recite each line perfectly, admiring the way he latched on to every one of Marlowe’s mannerisms and shifts in tone. “I didn't ask to see you. I don't mind if you don't like my manners. I don't like them myself. They're pretty bad. I grieve over them long winter evenings. And I don't mind your ritzing me, or drinking your lunch out of a bottle, but don't waste your time trying to cross-examine me.”

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Veronica whispered back. Jughead responded with an ‘ohhh’ that made them both giggle. When their mirth died down, Veronica glanced nervously at Jughead and took a deep breath before speaking.

“Hey, Jughead,” she began, treading on eggshells with her words, “you know, if you need any help, I’m here.” He stared at her quizzically, growing more worried about where she was going with this. “I mean, my mom owns an entire apartment building that still has a few empty places, if you need it.”

“What are you talking about, Veronica?” He tried to remain calm, but he could tell that she knew. _Crap._

“I… saw the bed, and the clothes, Jughead,” she answered, avoiding eye-contact as she spoke, “Now I get why you care about this place so much.” Jughead turned away from her, trying to hide the embarrassment on his face. He turned pale. She rushed to make him feel better, “You know we’d all wanna help you. Archie, Betty… me. But I know you’re too proud.”

Jughead smiled slightly, in spite of himself. “I think Betty’s a little busy at the moment. What with her vendetta against a certain music teacher.” Veronica chuckled and nodded. She had seen the notes from Betty’s fake interview, as well as a draft of an article, on her desk in the Blue and Gold. Needless to say, she would not be letting _that_ get published any time soon.

“Still,” Veronica pressed on, “we’re here. I’m here.” Jughead finally met her gaze, and with the screen reflected in those dark orbs, it was almost as if stars floated within her irises.

“I don’t know, Veronica.” Veronica reached out suddenly and laid her hand on his arm. Jughead stiffened at the touch.

“Just think about it, okay?” She was imploring him, he could tell. No more fake, upper-class persona. Something about this Veronica felt real to him. So, he gave in and nodded slowly.

“Okay,” he consented, “I’ll think about it.” Triumphant, Veronica settled down beside him again, her back against the truck and bare legs hidden beneath tartan cloth.

“Why did you stop me phoning?” Veronica followed along with Lauren Bacall, smiling the whole time. Jughead was smiling too, but not at the film.

“Because I’m working for your father.” Jughead was still mimicking Bogart perfectly, and not even watching anymore. “Or, because I think I’m beginning to like another one of the Sternwoods.” Lodge and Bacall flashed their companions with the same wicked smile.

Veronica matched him word for word. “I prefer the second reason.”

* * *

In the pale light of dawn, Jughead Jones watched the reel of film run out and hit against the other wheel, making a light slapping sound. He let it spin for a moment, savouring the last time he would ever hear that noise, before flipping the switch and watching it peter out. 

Jughead felt surprisingly numb as he looked around at his world, enclosed within these four wooden walls; a dozen tins of film, spare wheels and cord, and classic horror posters ranging from Hitchcock to Polanski plastering the walls. He grabbed a lumberjack shirt from a shelf and stuffed it unceremoniously into his rucksack. No use in beating about the bush.

At the desk, Jughead switched off the lamp, almost missing the one item he really cared about: a picture of him and his sister, Jellybean, standing outside the Drive-In. They were showing off their toothless grins, whilst Jughead enveloped his sister in a tight hug. _I wish she was here now._ He folded it up, carefully hiding it in the ripped pocket of his jeans.

He scanned the room one last time - the unmade bed and makeshift stove - and left with a heavy sigh. But, he swore to himself he wouldn’t cry.

Outside, in the empty, barren lot, he completed one last act of rebellion, using black spray paint and his own penchant for the dramatic. He sprayed _Jughead Jones woz here_ on the side of the building, with a crown for extra flair. He tossed away the empty can and shouldered his bag, which was not so heavy for carrying all of his worldly possessions within. When he turned, his day suddenly got worse.

F.P. Jones, still proudly donning his worn Serpent jacket, stood in his path, one thumb through his belthole, the other behind his back. His expression was unreadable.

“They’ll tear that down, too,” he reminded him, but there was no malice or amusement in his voice. “Raze the whole place, send it to the junkyard. And us with it.” His Serpent friends were far behind him at the other end of the field, motorcycles surrounding them protectively.

Jughead regarded his father with cool detachment. “Yeah. Maybe they’ll save it, all the pieces.” F.P. and Jughead were both naturally pessimistic, yet still took very different views on life. This man wore a chain where Jughead wore suspenders. 

Jughead continued his speculation, “Store it in the town attic and rebuild it in a hundred years. Wonder who the hell we were.” The corners of F.P’s mouth lifted slightly, and his grey stubble made him look older than he was. That, and the bags under his eyes. Jughead smiled too at the odd notion, but it quickly turned to a frown.

“Where are you gonna live now?” F.P. asked, making Jughead cast his eyes to the damp gravel beneath his feet.

“I’ll figure it out, dad.” Veronica was always an option, but he still wasn’t sure about her, and his pride prevented him taking up her offer. F.P. looked like he wanted to speak up, but Jughead wouldn’t give him the chance, “I always do.” He sauntered past his father, letting the aged gang leader watch him walk away.

_And tomorrow morning, when we wake up, the world will yet again be changed..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to post this on Christmas for my friends in the Jeronica Nation and the rest of the fandom, so I finished about 15 minutes before posting. Sorry if there are any mistakes! Any way, Merry Christmas all <3


	5. The End's Beginning

**Veronica**

_Every town has one. The spooky house that all the kids avoid. Ours was Thornhill, the Blossom family's mansion, with its very own graveyard. And trapped within its walls, like some gothic heroine, was Cheryl Blossom, still grieving for her beloved brother. Linked in death, as they were in life..._

In the office of the Blue and Gold, Kevin was putting the finishing touches on their new 'murder board', as Jughead liked to call it. "This is how my dad had his 'Jason Blossom murder board' before it was trashed," he explained, pinning the last black-and-white photo of the Blossom family on the cork. 

Veronica and Jughead were sitting on the edge of the table, arms crossed in the same way. Betty was pacing, which is how you knew she was thinking, whilst Jughead preferred to twiddle his fingers as his mind worked. 

"Any leads on who did that?" he asked, studying the board intensely. "Or what they were looking for?" Veronica was thinking the same thing. _Who benefits from removing that evidence?_ she wondered. The only answer that came to mind was… the killer. 

"Nope," Kevin answered dejectedly, "no fingerprints. But they stole a bunch of files, background checks, and all the video and audio tapes of police interviews." That cemented it in Veronica's mind. If they could find out who did this, chances are they would find who killed Jason Blossom. Before she could voice this however, there came a knock at the door and a boy entered. 

"Hey, Betty," he said, waving awkwardly at her. He had a shy smile and kind eyes. _The perfect guy for Betty_ , Veronica thought, _and she found him all on her own._

"Hey, Trev!" _Trev, huh? So that's his name._ Betty seemed excited, practically glowing, and Veronica was happy for her friend. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, looking sheepish. Veronica turned to listen further, her Kevin watching Trev’s every move like true best friends. When Jughead's thigh brushed against hers, however, her brain briefly stopped functioning.

She glanced over to see if Jughead had noticed, but he was still studying all the evidence they had collected. He hadn’t moved away though, and that made Veronica smile. It was ridiculous, really, getting so excited about the smallest of touches, but for some reason Veronica couldn’t help it. She bit her lip, and when Jughead turned his head and smiled curiously at her she had to will herself not to blush. 

“You okay, Veronica?” he asked, almost laughing. She realised she must look a fool, and did her best to hide her embarrassment.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, fine,” she stuttered, brushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear and averting her gaze. She took to pretending to study the board, whilst in reality she was mentally chastising herself for caring what someone like Jughead Jones thought about her, and freaking out over _just a touch_.

By the time she’d stopped over-thinking, Trev was gone and it seemed she had missed an entire conversation. Veronica felt as if she’d fallen asleep, yet she knew she hadn’t. She was always drifting off these days; she never used to, but she thought she knew why. When Kevin practically dragged her out so they could grab some lunch, Veronica was glad. Anything to distract her. She’d had a stressful few days and food was exactly what she needed.

They passed through the halls in silence, only stopping to meet Archie coming from the changing rooms, and so Veronica could get some fries from the cafeteria. Jughead insisted he wasn’t hungry, but she knew he’d regret that decision very shortly. 

Out on the field, Veronica traversed the bleachers, pretending to be a tight-rope walker, as she interrogated Betty about her new-found love-life. “Betty, you're positively radiating Nicholas Sparks. Tell me all about this Trev,” she prompted suggestively. Betty and Jughead looked at her quizzically.

"V, you were sitting right there," Betty said. "You met him."

Veronica casually rolled her eyes and bit down on another salty fry. "Uh, what can I say, I…" she searched for an excuse, but soon gave up, "I wasn't listening." She shrugged, and Archie laughed, whilst Betty rolled her blue eyes and smiled. "So, spill!" she ordered, with a dazzling smile, as always. 

Kevin answered for her. "Oh, there's nothing to tell. Just one of Betty's sources. There's nothing romantic in the offing." Kevin placed a sarcastic emphasis on 'nothing' both times, a clear sign that he didn't believe a word. 

Veronica sighed. "Why is everything weird here?" Veronica wondered aloud as they all sat on the bleachers, Archie and Betty in front, Jughead and Kevin behind. Jughead sat _directly_ behind, meaning his knees were by her shoulders, and made the entire lunch break very distracting. "Why can't a date just be a date?"

She turned her attention to Archie, doing all she could to take her mind off the emo heartthrob sitting directly behind her. "What about you, Archie? How's life in a PG world?" No one seemed to get her very clever joke that she happened to be quite proud of. "PG? Post-Grundy?" she elaborated. "What? Too soon?" She chewed on more fries, mirth in her eyes, but none of her friends seemed impressed. 

"Coach Clayton thinks I have a shot at being Varsity captain, so," he answered in the dullest way possible, "I'm not thinking about anything else right now."

"And you're back to being boring." Veronica leaned back a little, and could feel Jughead's eyes on the food in her hand. She looked back, and sure enough he was eyeing them hungrily. She checked her phone. _He lasted 30 seconds. Impressive._ "Something I can help you with, Jughead?"

He licked his lips and quickly gave in. "Mind if I have some of your fries?" He seemed so anxious it nearly made Veronica burst out laughing. 

"Yeah, weirdo, of course you can." She held out the red-and-white card container for him, and Jughead took a few and chewed on them gratefully. Valerie Brown sat down next to Archie and started talking about his music, but Veronica was only barely listening.

“I know Miss Grundy used to tutor you,” she said, grinning like a love-sick idiot.

“Understatement of the century,” Veronica added with a wry smile. Jughead reached over and grabbed another handful of _her_ lunch, but stopped when Veronica drew a sharp intake of breath and cocked an eyebrow. "You sure you wanna take that many?" she questioned. "You really wanna test our friendship like that?"

Jughead narrowed his eyes. "I'm willing to risk it," he said. With an over-dramatic flair, he added, "For the fries." Veronica stared at him as he brought the food closer to his mouth.

Before he could enjoy them, Veronica stood and theatrically announced, "That's it! Jughead and I are no longer friends!" Valerie chuckled as she walked away, Kevin watched her declaration open-mouthed and half-giggling, but Betty and Archie were busy talking amongst themselves. 

"What? No, no, no, I take it back! You can have the fries!" Jughead protested, trying to undo whatever mistake he made. Veronica knew it was a joke, but she enjoyed teasing him far too much to make it easy for him.

"It's not about the fries, Jughead," she said, fake tears welling up in her eyes, "it's about the fact that you didn't care enough about our friendship to listen to me!"

"Veronica, please, I didn't mean it!" He took a step down towards her, but Veronica moved away. The way his eyes were laughing told her he was getting the joke. Veronica dodged him again, trying not to slip and fall through one of many gaps along the rows. Jughead started to get choked up as he spoke, "I just think it's unfair how our entire relationship can rest on one bag of fries!" That's when they both broke, and Veronica's sides hurt from all the laughter. 

She jumped down onto the soft grass, grabbing Jughead's hat at the same time, forcing Jughead to chase after her. She balled up the container and threw it at him as a distraction, then she and Kevin began passing it between them, revelling in Jughead's light-hearted frustration. 

Archie was watching them, with a grin as broad as his shoulders. "Glad those two are finally getting along," he said, to no-one in particular. Betty stared at them with unease.

"Jughead and Veronica? No way." She shook her head vigorously, making her tight blonde ponytail whip about her neck. For some reason, unknown even to her, Betty couldn't stand that idea. "I'm sure they're just acting this way for our benefit. We basically forced them to hang out, the least they could do is pretend to like each other."

There was no way Archie was believing that. "Come on, Betty. You can't mean that. Look at them." They did; Jughead was standing on his tip-toes, holding his hat far out of Veronica's reach, until she lightly punched him in the stomach. When he doubled over, she grabbed it and ran.

"Trust me, Arch. I know more about girls than you do." Archie shrugged and seemed to accept her verdict. But not even Betty Cooper believed her own words anymore.

Right on schedule, Cheryl showed up to ruin everyone’s day. “Sorry to interrupt, Sad Breakfast Club,” she interjected, making Jughead and Veronica’s laughter peter out into nothing, “but I’m here to formally invite you to Jason’s memorial this weekend.” Cheryl had a way of bringing the mood down, and Jughead, Veronica and Kevin almost felt compelled to return to their seats on the bleachers.

She handed out black envelopes to Archie, Kevin, a slightly shocked Betty and Jughead, and lastly, Veronica, which no-one was expecting. “To my surprise and chagrin, mother added you to the guest-list,” Cheryl continued, with more than a hint of resentment in her voice. “In case you’re tempted to steal our silver candlesticks - don’t. We’ll be searching bags.” With that, she sauntered away from them, and Veronica had to fight the urge to say that the candlesticks at the Pembrooke were more authentic than anything in Cheryl’s house, _including_ Cheryl.

Betty turned to her with a conciliatory smile. “Hey, just try to remember she _is_ burying her brother.” Betty was right, of course. She always seemed to be, but sometimes she hated how forgiving she could be. Veronica supposed she could let it go for one day, and resume hostilities the next. She had a way with people and scolding them; her mother had had a taste of Veronica’s wrath, and she vowed to never lie to her again, and she couldn’t remember Reggie or Chuck ever coming back for vengeance.

Whilst everyone mulled over that deeply depressing thought, Veronica took the opportunity to snatch Jughead’s beanie once again, making everyone forget about the fleeting nature of human existence for at least a few more minutes.

* * *

**Jughead**

Jughead was sitting one of the red couches, running his lip against his thumb, thinking. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. Betty’s ‘date’ with Trev had pulled up useful information; it turns out a certain red-headed jock, now deceased, had started selling drugs for an unknown reason, and Hal Cooper revealed Polly had started self-harming, all during the time they dated.

“Betty, I’m so sorry,” he said, still mulling it over in his brain. “That’s hardcore.” She looked upset, but nothing more than that. She was keeping it together well, but for her eyes. _Eyes betray the soul_ , someone once said, though for once he couldn’t remember who.

“I asked my dad if I could call Polly.” Betty cast her eyes down and swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat. “He said she was doing better, but when she heard about Jason’s death she had a big setback. He doesn’t want to risk another one.”

“Why does a rich kid sell drugs?” Jughead wondered aloud. It was a complete change of subject but, seeing the look in Betty’s eyes, a necessary one.

"He was running away from his parents," she answered, but Jughead wasn't certain it was that simple. 

"Yeah, probably," he muttered. He stood slowly; movement helped him think. "Or drug dealers." It was a grim possibility, but a possibility nonetheless. Jason wasn't the drug-dealing type, but stranger things have happened.

"Oh my God, is that even possible?" Betty wondered. 

"It's a theory. Yours is more likely," he admitted, "but why would he have to run away from _mommy_ and _daddy_?"

"Because… they're monsters." Betty was reaching a little with that one. Not exactly the sound investigative mind he'd hoped she'd have. 

"Yes, but, why? Specifically?" Jughead still wasn't certain. Jason Blossom was not the type to hang around drug dealers and gang members, but suppose, given his messed up family, he felt forced. Like he had to get away. Jughead mulled it over, and he knew he'd also do anything to get away from Clifford Blossom if he had to. Still, not exactly a solid theory. 

"Well, we can't exactly just ask them," Betty said. 

"So, we have to ask Jason," he said. Saying it out loud sounded stupid, but it was too late, he had said it anyway. 

Betty's narrowed eyes spoke volumes. "Are you proposing a séance?" she asked, clearly finding the idea ridiculous. What Jughead felt was ridiculous was that Betty could even think for a moment that is what he meant. _I suppose spending all your time with Archie for the past year made you less aware,_ Jughead pondered.

"No. Dead men tell no tales," he reminded her. "But their bedrooms? Their houses?" He glanced around surreptitiously, and Betty understood his meaning. Thankfully, they had just received open passes to sneak around Thornhill.

…

Jughead left the student lounge alone, brooding over his next move. That's when his eye caught a flash of raven hair and faint, irreverent laughter which stopped him in his tracks. Down the hall to his left, he saw Veronica, wrapping Archie's right wrist in bandages.

"Valerie, huh?" He just about caught that, and she sounded… _jealous._ But that couldn't be right, he must've misheard. Veronica Lodge wasn't the type to get jealous, over anyone. Jughead removed his headphones to listen in further; he briefly considered how wrong this was, but his curiosity got the better of him. 

Jughead was too far away to hear much, just the occasional burst of laughter and an odd word or two. Veronica mentioned 'seven minutes in heaven,' and the smirk on Archie’s face told him it was a fond memory. _Less fond for me_ , but he kept that thought to himself. When she had finished, Veronica kissed Archie’s bandaged hand, which made Jughead’s heart sink. She shouldered her bag and stood, but she never saw him. She was too focused on Archie, and the smiles they were exchanging were far more than friendly, making Jughead feel the need to brood even more as he walked away.

 _What was I thinking?_ he wondered as he passed silently through throngs of his empty-headed classmates. Of course Veronica would rather be with Archie, and he was stupid for thinking otherwise. _She probably never even thought of me like that_. Why would she, when the dashing, kind, musical football player was sitting right there, and he’d already shown interest in her? 

Jughead ambled to his next class, doing his best to drown out the noise. He realised he needed to forget about Veronica Lodge. He was never going to be with her, hell they were barely even friends, and the Lodges were people he used to actively shun. The question was, how do you get over someone you never dated?

* * *

**Veronica**

Veronica left Cheryl to finish getting dressed and floated down the ornate staircase to join the other guests. A night in the gothic horror that was Cheryl Blossom’s life had really opened Veronica’s eyes, and she had a new-found sympathy for her, though that couldn’t always excuse her actions. Still, she was burying her brother, so Veronica was willing to be kind.

One of Thornhill’s many large rooms had been set up with flowers decorating every wall and chairs facing a black coffin. She spotted her friends congregated together, and noted an empty seat next to Jughead as she approached.

“Days like today really put things in perspective, huh?” She sat down next to Jughead, so Valerie, Archie and Kevin turned in their seats to listen. “I mean, at least we’re here. At least we’re alive.” They all reflected on that sombrely. Veronica noticed Jughead shift in his seat, putting a gap between them, but he was looking doggedly ahead when she glanced over.

“Hey, Jughead,” she began nervously. The subject she was about to broach was sensitive, and she could never be sure how he’d react. Before she could, however, something behind them was turning everyone’s heads. When Veronica joined in, she saw Cheryl, clad all in white, certainly not the way she had left her that morning.

Everyone watched open-mouthed as she approached the coffin, and stood behind the podium. Veronica let out a small ‘oh my god’ and she heard a whispered ‘yes’ from in front of her, most likely from Kevin. Penelope looked almost ready to wrestle her away, but Clifford held her back and forced her into a chair.

“Welcome. Thank you all for coming,” Cheryl said meekly. Veronica was as shocked as everyone else, but she had to admit, she admired Cheryl’s guts. “If you’d kindly take your seats,” she continued, and warily everyone did, “I’d like to start the memorial with a few words about Jason.” She removed her gloves and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. 

Penelope tried to rise and put an end to this, but Veronica caught her eye and fixed her with a warning glare. “You’re only going to make things worse,” she mouthed, and that was enough to make her stay where she was, however reluctantly.

Cheryl continued with a sentimental story about Jason and their birthday parties when they were little. Veronica smiled a little; she had always wanted a sibling, and thought how lucky Cheryl is, or _was_ , to have had Jason there for her. When Cheryl began weeping over his coffin, Veronica rushed to embrace her. They stayed there for a while, Veronica’s shoulder getting drenched in tears, as Penelope Blossom ushered the guests into another room.

From the corner of her eye, Veronica spotted Jughead and Betty glance around surreptitiously before darting up the grand staircase. Whatever they were up to, right then and there was certainly not the time. Once Cheryl had dried her eyes, Veronica followed her friends.

Thornhill was a like a maze, especially the upper floors, with unmarked doors that could have anything behind them. She felt like Jane Eyre, and she was just one door away from a padded room with a mad ex-wife hidden inside. Thankfully, she had a good idea where Betty and Jughead had gone and when she turned the corner, they were exactly where she expected, sneaking into Jason’s room as quietly as possible. Unfortunately, Veronica was not the quiet type.

“Hey!” They jumped at the sound of her voice, but relaxed when they realised who it was. Veronica placed a hand on her hip and gently shook her head. “Really, guys? Sneaking around Jason’s bedroom during his own memorial?” Betty and Jughead suddenly turned sheepish and looked to one another for support. Luckily, Hermione Lodge had taught her daughter the perfect response in situations like these. “I’m not mad,” she said, “just disappointed.”

Jughead sighed and almost grinned. He turned to Betty, “I got this. You start without me.” Betty smiled at both of them gratefully and ducked inside the room. Jughead and Veronica met each other in the middle of the hall. “Why are you here, Veronica?”

“Well, I was _going_ to remind you of my offer,” she said, somewhat sympathetically. There was still an edge of annoyance to her voice, but not enough to think she was truly angry. “There’s always room at the Pembrooke.” When she said that, her voice quietened, and she felt as if she were pleading with him, even though she had the thing _he_ wanted.

“Don’t worry about it, Veronica.” He shrugged nonchalantly and averted his green eyes from hers. “I’ve found a place.” The look on her dark features told him she didn’t believe a word of it. “I’m serious. With one of my dad’s friends.”

“Really?” She arched her dark eyebrows and regarded him with suspicion. Jughead shrugged again and tried not to meet her gaze; once he did, she’d know he was lying. Finally, she gave up. “Okay, if you’re sure. But, my offer will _always_ stand.” She was being completely sincere, but Jughead was acting oddly cagey, and she didn’t like it one bit.

“Anything else you wanted?” he asked.

Veronica didn’t like this new attitude of his, so she steeled herself and glared at him. “Actually, yeah, there is,” she answered, folding her arms across her chest to emphasise her disappointment. “I wanna know why you think any of this is okay. I mean, come on! When are you two not investigating this?” Jughead had no answer, and he cowed a little beneath her stare. “I get it, you wanna figure this out. We all do. But, you’re not the only ones investigating. And meanwhile, we are churning out weekly editions of the Blue and Gold.”

“So?” he asked. “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“It’s supposed to be a daily newspaper, dumbass.” Jughead at least had the grace to look a little sheepish. “My point is,” she continued, “life goes on. So why are you so obsessed with the end of it?”

Jughead opened his mouth, and closed it again, at a loss for how to respond. Veronica had made him think, which made her quite proud of herself. They might have said more, but Betty burst out of Jason’s room, tears in her eyes, and practically ran past them down the hall. Veronica chased after her, and Jughead was left to wonder why he was determined to keep away from Veronica, and yet couldn’t stop watching her walk away.

_Every town has one. The house on the haunted hill all the kids avoid. Now that Jason was buried in the earth, it would only be a matter of time until something poisonous bloomed in that long, cold shadow cast by his death. Whatever grew in the rich, black soil of the Blossoms' garden always found its way to the town. Whether it was murder or love... or secrets... or lies..._


	6. Maybe...

**Jughead**

_Fear. It’s the most basic, the most human, emotion. As kids, we’re afraid of everything. The dark… the bogeyman under the bed… and we pray for morning, for those monsters to go away. Though, they never do. Not really. Just ask Jason Blossom._

For Jughead Jones, breaking bread with Alice Cooper was terrifying enough, but the meal from hell was all for a good cause. To get to the bottom of the Jason Blossom case, they needed to go to the one who knew him best: Polly Cooper. And the only one who knew where she was had sat across from Jughead, eyeing him suspiciously as she stirred her tea with a spoon. Jughead felt he was holding his breath the whole time, and only relaxed when he stepped into the cool breeze on Elm Street.

At least it was over. In the office of the Blue and Gold, Jughead never felt more relaxed, especially as he was researching and snooping, looking up the name of some charity Alice had in her chequebook. _The Sisters of Quiet Mercy_. From the description, Jughead was stepping right into the middle of a classic horror movie.

“I still can’t believe she and Jason got engaged,” Betty muttered behind him. Their search of the Blossom house had proved more fruitful than expected, when Nana Rose mistook Betty for her sister and revealed the details of the whole sordid affair. Now, thanks to their snooping, they knew where she was.

“Knock knock.” She actually said it, which is how they knew, without looking, that Veronica Lodge had stepped into the room. She was beaming, as she always was in the morning, and Jughead struggled to see how she could always appear so optimistic. He had asked her once, and all Veronica did was shrug and smile at him, that way she did as though she was laughing at some joke, but would never share it with you.

“How are my intrepid reporters doing today?” she continued, dropping her bag unceremoniously down on the desk and facing them with her hands on her hips. Her black hair was sleek and shining, falling to her shoulders effortlessly, fooling everyone into thinking she never had to touch it. Three coffees, and muffins to match, landed on the desk next to Jughead’s laptop, and he eagerly bit into one the moment he saw them.

“We’re fine, V,” Betty answered, taking a cup for herself, “what about you?” She sipped daintily, Jughead couldn’t fail to notice.

“Good, good,” she sighed as she spoke. Veronica leaned over and saw the screen displayed on Jughead’s laptop, but she somehow managed to keep her frustration hidden. “How are your articles coming?” Jughead and Betty shared a nervous glance; they had officially made the Blue and Gold a weekly newspaper, the right decision really, but they still had trouble meeting their targets. Jughead was better than Betty. Veronica’s words and hit hard, and he was doing his best to follow them.

“Good,” Jughead answered, before the silence stretched on for too long. “I’ve just got one more interview to do: Reggie Mantle.” His tone of voice made it sound like that was the worst thing in the world.

“How did you get Mantle to agree to an interview?” Veronica asked.

“No idea,” Jughead answered honestly. “I guess he just remembered what happens when you make Veronica Lodge angry.” That sent Veronica into a fit of giggles, and Jughead couldn’t help but chuckle with her. He saw the blush creeping up her cheeks, and couldn’t believe how cute that made her look.

“Betty, what about you?” Betty blushed too, though they couldn’t have looked more different. “How’s that article on cafeteria food coming?” Betty responded with an awkward silence that stretched on for far too long.

“Good. Yeah, great,” she finally said, but Jughead knew that was a lie. After learning about Polly and Jason, Betty had barely slept, and her mind had been consumed with thoughts of finding her sister. “I will definitely get… something to you by Thursday.”

No one in that room believed that, but all Veronica said was, “Great. Can’t wait to read it.” She sipped on her coffee and leaned against her desk. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it. See you guys later.” Jughead’s gaze lingered on her as she left, and it wasn’t until Betty cleared her throat that he snapped out of it.

“So, what’s up with you and Veronica?” Jughead asked. Everytime she stepped into this office, Betty seized up and practically refused to speak. “I thought you guys were best friends?”

Betty sighed and finally dragged her gaze away from _The Sisters’_ grim website. “We are,” she said at last, “and we’re totally fine ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s just,” she sighed again, searching for the right words, “whenever we step in this office, she starts to really get on my nerves.”

“Well, she’s got a point, Betty.” Betty stared at him with disbelief. “We’re not cops, this is a newspaper. Like it or not, sometimes you’re gonna have to put away the detective brain and write about crappy cafeteria food, or football. It can’t always be the most interesting thing in the world.”

Betty stared at him with narrowed eyes, then scrunched up her face in that way that meant she knew he was right, but would never say it out loud. Instead, she took to studying Jughead’s laptop screen intensely.

“So, _The Sisters of Quiet Mercy._ It says it’s a home for troubled youths.” Jughead examined the website further, and it looked like visual inspiration for an especially creepy episode of _Doctor Who_. “‘Where disenfranchised teens will learn such virtues as discipline and respect, enjoying lives of quiet reflection and servitude.’” With every word, this was sounding more and more like a cult.

“Poor Polly,” Betty whispered, concern etched on her face. Jughead desperately wanted to ease her fears, but he had no idea how. When it came to people who weren’t fictional, Jughead found himself woefully ill equipped. At the very least, they had found Polly, and were one step closer to discovering the truth.

* * *

Jughead was doing his best to make himself comfortable on the picnic benches, one foot up on the seat as he idly ate chips from a bag. Betty was next to him, still thinking aloud about Polly and their plans to rescue/ interrogate her. Betty favoured rescue, but Jughead still thought of it as an interrogation.

“It’s been months,” Betty said, thinking aloud, “there’s got to be a reason my mom and dad don’t want me to see Polly.” Her face lit up suddenly, and Jughead briefly realised she was pretty. Far from the hyper-active girl obsessed with Archie he had once been friends with. “But I don’t care anymore.” Before she could continue, Archie interjected.

“What are you guys talking about?” he asked innocently enough. “Anything I can help with?” Betty smiled with a hint of condescension. 

“What we’re attempting is a stealth operation, Archie,” Jughead answered. “If we go in there with the entire Scooby Gang, forget it, we’re compromised.” Archie shrugged and didn’t seem to mind much, and Jughead was thankful for it. If they were to avoid the watchful eye of Alice Cooper, secrecy was key.

“Well, don’t you have to practice for the variety show?” Betty asked, hoping to alleviate some of the tension. If Val wasn’t sitting next to their ginger friend, it might’ve, but instead the two of them shared an awkward, loaded look before answering.

“Uh, no, I don’t,” Archie said, his eyes downcast.

“Except that yes, you do.” And like the hero in the third act of a low-rent action movie, Veronica Lodge swooped down on their table to save the day. “Thanks to a certain Veronica-ex-machina,” she added with a triumphant grin as she took her seat between Archie and Val. Kevin, acting as her shadow, sat next to Jughead.

“What do you mean?” Betty questioned.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, with an expression that was deceptively humble, but her entire manner spoke of her pride. “Just that I had a few words with our director-slash-host and reminded him that he’s heard you sing on numerous occasions.”

“Even though it compromises my artistic integrity --” Kevin put in, but Veronica interjected before he could continue making Archie feel guilty.

“Cutting to the chase,” she said, turning to Archie and doing her best to ignore Kevin’s rambling, “you have a slot, if you want it.”

“Veronica, thank you,” Archie began apologetically, “but you saw what happened.” Jughead hadn’t, but Kevin was more than happy to let him know how Archie choked onstage. This conversation was quickly growing boring, however, and Jughead looked for something more diverting. Wordlessly, he asked Betty for some of her food, hoping to recreate the fun he and Veronica had over her portion of fries. Betty nodded, and resumed listening to Archie. On the outside, Jughead smiled in thanks, but within he was quite disappointed. “Playing my songs in front of you guys is one thing, but getting back up on that stage by myself? I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.” When Jughead looked at Archie, he thought he saw genuine fear in his eyes. 

“If it’s a partner you’re looking for,” Veronica prompted suggestively, “Veronica Lodge is more than willing and able.” _Of course,_ Jughead thought, _I should’ve known she’d be able to sing on top of everything else._

“Veronica, I didn’t know you could sing,” Betty said. Veronica shrugged, though once again, her pride was delightfully obvious.

“Like a nightingale,” she said, and Jughead couldn’t help but smile as he watched her eyes light up at the thought. He would like to hear her sing, to watch her as she did. If she got half excited singing as she did trying to convince Archie to sing with her, it would be quite something. Even Archie, as nervous as he was, couldn’t resist her cajoling, and he promptly agreed.

As he watched them laugh, somewhat flirtatiously, Jughead couldn’t help but be reminded of when Veronica kissed Archie’s cast, and bitterly wondered how long before they started dating, without the stain of Betty’s jealousy. They looked so perfect together, and Jughead was just glad of this quest to take his mind off it. _But, how long would that last?_ he wondered.

* * *

**Veronica**

Veronica walked towards the rec room, sheet music in hand, her mind full of the conversation she had had the night before.

Her leg was hammering against the floor, partially from nervousness, partially from impatience. The fire was roaring, but Veronica had felt deathly cold. Any moment, Veronica expected her mother would walk through the door and rattle off excuses for what Veronica saw that day, but she wouldn’t give her that chance. After her shady meetings with gang members, Hermione’s latest transgression with Fred Andrews left Veronica feeling disappointed, but not surprised.

That day, Veronica was so proud of her mom. She got a job, a real job, so Veronica had gone to the construction site after school to surprise her, flowers in hand. But through the mud-splattered windows of the Andrews Construction trailer, she saw her mom breaking her vows with Archie’s dad, and she didn’t know whether to cry or throw up.

The door opened, and Hermione Lodge stepped inside, all smiles without a trace of guilt. For the first time in a while, Veronica had felt truly afraid as she rose and said, “Are you gonna leave dad when he gets out of jail?” The look on Hermione’s face revealed nothing but surprise; she was an expert liar, just like her husband.

“Ronnie, why would you ask such a thing?”

“I saw you, mom,” she said, letting those words sink in for a moment, “with Fred Andrews. In the trailer.” Hermione’s face fell, and she approached her daughter slowly, as if she were a frightened deer and any moment she might run off.

“Oh, Veronica,” she said, “I am so sorry that you did.” Hermione seemed genuine, but Veronica was skeptical. With her mom’s frequent and consistent lies, it was honestly hard to tell when she decided to actually tell the truth. “But, I want you to know that we’ve never even kissed before. Until today.” _As if that makes it any better_ , Veronica thought.

“What about dad?” Veronica sometimes felt like she was the only person who remembered her dad existed. Her mom certainly didn’t act like it. “What happens when he comes home?” Hermione fumbled for an answer, but Veronica knew she had none.

“I don’t know,” she responded, and that told Veronica all she needed to know. Between Betty _still_ acting cagey, despite her best efforts, Cheryl being a walking nightmare, and Archie… she really thought she could rely on her mom. She thought wrong. “What can I do to help?”

Veronica exhaled and had tried to quell the rising anger. Even so, her tone was like ice, “You know what, mom? There’s actually nothing.” Veronica went to bed that night feeling ill and angry… and woke feeling worse. Outside the rec room at Riverdale High, the sound of a guitar and harmonising voices did nothing to settle her.

Val and Archie were sitting far too close together, singing beautifully as he strummed his guitar. Veronica found no joy in the sight, however; she had watched enough reality shows to know what getting dumped looked like, even if she had rarely experienced such a thing herself.

“Not to be that girl,” Veronica interjected, breaking the intense eye contact between the pair, “but I didn’t get the memo we were adding another voice to the mix.” Archie’s face turned as red as his hair.

“Ronnie, hey,” he said, grinning sheepishly. “Great news. Valerie quit the Pussycats.” Val smiled too, but Veronica’s own perturbed expression quickly wiped it away.

“So that makes me, what then? Back-up?” She folded her arms across her chest, but realised she was still holding sheet music. She did her best to seem intimidating as she placed it on the coffee table, but she wasn’t sure it worked.

“No, I mean, you were just doing it as a favour to me, right?” The fact that Archie would pull such an excuse galled Veronica more than she expected; the fact that he actually believed it was just downright baffling.

“You are unbelievable, Archie. You literally have zero loyalty!” That may have come out harsher and louder than she intended, but _this_ really was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and made her even more pissed off than before.

“Okay, Ronnie, what’s wrong?” he asked, and though Veronica really didn’t feel like talking, it came pouring out of her, unbidden, like a tidal wave.

“What’s wrong, Archie, besides the fact that you have no integrity whatsoever, is that your father kissed my mother.” At that, Val made an awkward attempt at escape, but Archie wouldn’t let her leave. Now that Archie stood, he towered over Veronica, but that didn’t worry her. If she cowed before everyone who was taller than her, she would never get to stand up for herself.

“When my dad told me how he felt, it seemed like they were both really into each other.”

“They’re married,” Veronica protested, “to other people.”

“My mom and dad are separated,” he answered, “and your dad is..” Archie trailed off then, looking for the right word. Veronica narrowed her eyes but refused to speak, curious as to how bad this was going to go. “He’s… he’s incarcerated, right?”

Veronica almost laughed. “That is so not the point, Archie,” she said as she picked up her sheet music. Her face could have curdled milk, and it certainly seemed to leave a sour taste in Archie’s mouth.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “Do you wanna talk about it? We can go somewhere and talk.” Veronica was tired of talking. It never seemed to lead anywhere good, so she just shook her head and spun on her heel to leave. “Or do you want your part back?” Val didn’t seem too happy at the suggestion, and neither was she.

“Oh, don’t do me any favours, Archie.” And with that, she left, ignoring his calls as they grew fainter and fainter. She stopped briefly to calm herself, and the poster she saw in that exact moment felt like kismet.

In the music room, Veronica found Melody and Josie bickering over song lyrics. “Your hunt for a new Pussycat is over,” she announced, and that certainly got their attention. “I can sing and I’ve got a lot of aggression that needs channeling into something positive.” Josie and Melody smirked, and just like that Veronica had two new friends.

When she walked the halls that day with Josie and Melody, pussycat ears nestled on her head, and saw Archie and Val staring, she felt like the girl she used to be. Confident, proud, awe-inspiring. Jughead’s open-mouthed stare that slowly morphed into a smile didn’t hurt, either.

* * *

**Jughead**

Standing in the grass by the Cooper household, staring up at the second-floor window, Jughead suddenly began to regret ever coming here. After seeing Polly, a meeting Jughead was not privy to, Betty seemed upset, and it didn’t help when she was dragged away, screaming at her mom about Jason Blossom. He was probably the last person she’d want to see right now. Still, he couldn’t get this thought out of his head.

_Maybe…_

Maybe he could help, or maybe she could help him. Between Archie and Veronica, it seemed like they were both getting over people they’d never even dated, and Jughead was doing a lot worse than Betty, it seemed. He still thought about her constantly, and it was starting to show in his writing. But if he had someone. If they _both_ had someone, then maybe…

He hadn’t been able to wash his beanie in a while, so it was starting to smell. Even so, he didn’t take it off as he climbed up to Betty’s window and knocked on the glass. She looked surprised and somewhat pleased to see him, and opened the way for him to enter.

“Hey there, Juliet,” he said, giving his best, slightly sheepish, smile. “Nurse off duty?” She stepped aside to let him crawl in, and he must have looked extremely awkward as he clambered over her window seat, most likely spreading mud everywhere. “You haven’t gone full “Yellow Wallpaper” on me yet, have you?”

Betty sighed, barely listening as she searched for the right words. In the end, all she could say was, “They’re crazy. My parents are crazy.” She looked distraught. So far, she had been hiding it well, but Jughead wasn’t blind, and she wasn’t _that_ good an actor.

“They’re parents. They’re all crazy.” Jughead wished he could say something more comforting, but that was all he had. 

“No, but, what if -- What if Polly is too?” she wondered aloud. Jughead would not be quick to label anyone ‘crazy’, but Polly did not seem herself when he saw her. “The way she was talking to me, the way she looked at me. And now all I can think is, maybe I’m crazy like they are.” Betty was spiralling, and Jughead was the only one there, so he placed his hand on her shoulder. It was all he could think of that might be consolatory.

“Hey,” he said, as she thankfully took a deep breath and started to calm down, “we’re all crazy.” That brought a smile to her face. “We’re not our parents, Betty. We’re not our family.” She nodded along as he spoke, and Jughead wished he could have as much faith in his words as she did. Yet, every time he looked in the mirror the spectre of his dad was there, a glimpse into his future. 

“Also…” he began, but his words caught in his throat. His eyes scanned her, and he tried to imagine being with Betty Cooper, the girl next door, so good and sweet that she just might make him better too. He needed someone to temper his worst impulses, help him be a good person. Could that be her? _Maybe…_

“What?” she asked, smiling. Jughead couldn’t answer with his thoughts running wild in his head. He thought of Archie and how long Betty had taken, was still taking, to get over him, of his dad and how much he hated him right now. “What?” she asked again. He thought of Veronica’s offer to stay at the the Pembrooke, how excited he had gotten when their thighs touched for a moment as they looked over the murder board, he remembered how she kissed Archie’s cast and how happy they looked… _Maybe…_

And suddenly he was kissing her.

It was sweet and soft and was lasting longer than he intended, but Betty’s hands gripped his shoulders and he couldn’t pull away. He liked it more than he expected, but he also didn’t know what he was expecting. He desperately wanted Betty to be the one he was looking for, but a part of him also hoped she would push him away and say she didn’t feel that way for him. She never did. 

Fate intervened when his phone rang, and Jughead was ‘forced’ to break it off and answer. When he saw who was calling he almost burst out laughing; _Veronica Lodge_. When he answered and brought it up to his ear, she spoke almost immediately.

“Hey, Jughead,” and it was definitely her on the other end of the line. Jughead looked to Betty, standing awkwardly in the middle of her room, and decided it best not to let her know who it was.

“Hey,” he responded. “What’s up?”

“Oh, not much,” she answered, though her voice said otherwise. Jughead noticed the slight crack and a sniffle which could be from a cold, but Jughead knew better. _Veronica Lodge is crying_ , he realised, _and she’s calling me?_ “I was just getting ready for the performance later, and I always feel better if I practice with someone, you know? Get some feedback?”

Betty gasped, as though she had a realisation. “Yeah, of course,” he said down the phone, slightly distracted by what Betty was mouthing at him. _The car_ , it looked like. He furrowed his brows and shrugged.

“Well, there’s this whole thing with Archie I don’t wanna get into, and Betty told me she was working on her story.” Jughead smiled as he watched Betty grab her jacket and urgently whisper something about Route 40. “So, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come over?” She sounded almost… _shy_ , but Jughead knew that couldn’t be right.

Betty was still trying to tell him something, so Jughead, torn as he was, had to give Veronica an answer. “I would love to, Veronica, but honestly I’ve gotta go. Sorry.” There was a pause that seemed endless, but neither wanted to speak, or put down the phone.

“Yeah, no, of course,” she said, ruining their moment completely. “Go do what you’ve gotta do.” He couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or not, but he bitterly prayed she wasn’t. “Say hi to Betty for me,” she added. Jughead laughed and rolled his eyes. _Of course she knew_.

“Will do,” he said, and then the line went dead. He wondered if he had just made a big mistake, but Betty wouldn’t give him time to think.

“Jughead, Polly talked about a car Jason had stashed for them off Route 40! Near some sign? If we find it, we can confirm Polly’s story.”

“Well, one way or another.” It was important that Betty didn’t get ahead of herself. Anything could happen, and optimism had no place in situations like this.

“I need to know, Juggie,” she said, and Jughead did his best not to cringe when she used that name, thought internal cringing was hard to control. At least they had a plan, and they could get back to the mystery. That was where he felt confident, where he felt safe.

* * *

 _Here’s the thing about fear. It’s always there. Fear of the unknown, fear of facing it alone. Fear that those closest to you_ are _the monsters. Fear that as soon as you slay one, there’s another monster waiting to take its place. Fear that there’s one more bogeyman waiting at the end of the dark hall._

Jughead struggled to keep up as Betty sprinted the length of the dark hallway in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. Thunder, lightning, rain… everything was set up for an ominous conclusion, and Jughead was nothing if not a believer in life imitating art.

When they found the car, off Route 40, beyond the old maple sign, just as Polly said, it felt like they had won. The drugs, Jason’s jacket, it all would prove to be a break in the case. After calling Sheriff Keller, they came straight here, to free Betty’s pregnant, grieving sister.

It turns out, she had freed herself.

_She was out there, alone, bereft, unmoored._

The window was shattered, he noticed blood on the pane. They were drenched in rain from their exploits, but tears streaked Betty’s face now too. Polly Cooper had gone rogue.

_Where was she going? And what would she do next?_

As he gazed out over the dark forests beyond this fortress, Jughead found himself wishing he was sitting in the front row in Riverdale High’s main hall, watching Veronica, dressed as a cat, sing Donna Summers. But instead, he was here.

And he was starting to regret it...


	7. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one kinda ran away from me and got super long. There are mentions of police brutality (it's minor but still) so please be aware of that. The whole thing is kinda heavy tbh. Sorry, guess I was in one of those moods. Hope you guys like it!

**Jughead**

_What makes a place feel like home? Is it warmth and familiarity? Some idealised, make-believe version of the American dream? Is it love and acceptance? Or is it simple safety?_

_Or… it’s none of those things…_

The harsh sound of a phone alarm woke Jughead from his 50s, all American nightmare. Still groggy, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and checked the time on his phone. _5:45 am._ Well-used to his morning routine by now, Jughead Jones slipped on his beanie and flip-flops, ignored a discarded pop tart in favour of his toothbrush, and warily exited the broom closet he now called a bedroom.

He had to be sure no-one was around. The last thing he needed was to lose another home. If this could even be called that.

School at this hour was a ghost town, the early-morning light falling through high windows like a pale mist. You could see the dust dancing in the light, and Jughead stopped for a moment, running his fingers through the floating particles. He could practically see the spectres watching him from every hallway. It made him feel so profoundly alone.

The showers always had hot water at this time, so that was a bonus. As he combed out his damp hair with a comb, Jughead once again began to rationalise why he was here, and not with a certain raven-haired princess. He supposed school wasn’t so bad, and being around Veronica whilst she gushed over Archie, or whoever she decided to date, he knew would be too painful, even for him.

Jughead was brushing his teeth when Archie suddenly appeared in the mirror, and nearly gave him a heart attack. As the shock wore off, they both chuckled, but Archie was curious and had to ask, “What are you doing in here?”

Jughead shrugged and tried to be nonchalant. “Taking advantage of the school’s state-of-the-art facilities,” he said, with his unique brand of casual sarcasm. One person knowing his situation was enough, though he had a feeling he was already busted. He turned back to the sink, but Archie’s brow furrowed in concern.

“No, really,” he insisted. Archie was nothing if not tenacious. “Jughead, what are you doing in here?” Jughead sighed, and knew it was over. The way Archie looked around that crawl space filled with books and variations on the same denim jacket made Jughead feel a little sick.

“How long?” he asked.

Jughead shrugged. “Well, since they shut down the drive-in,” he admitted shamefully. Archie’s look of pity was exactly what he had been hoping to avoid. “That’s where I was living before.”

“Why the hell are you not living at home?” Archie asked, standing as much as he could with a such a low ceiling. Jughead was a private person, so even talking about this stuff with his best friend was a challenge. How he got through it with Veronica, he’ll never know.

“The truth is, things aren’t… good at home,” he revealed, and every part of him itched to get out of this conversation. “With my dad. He kinda fell off the wagon, after your dad fired him, to tell you the truth. He hasn’t had a job since.” Jughead wanted to end the conversation there, but Archie’s eyebrows were raised in that way that meant he wouldn’t let it go. “He keeps promising that he’s gonna get his act together, but my mom couldn’t take that roller coaster anymore. So, she grabbed Jellybean and went to live with our grandparents."

The school bell rang loud and harsh through the halls, and Jughead breathed a sigh of relief. He took his backpack and made to leave, with Archie following and still interrogating. “God, Jug, why didn’t you tell me? And where does your dad think you are?”

“He thinks I’m couch-surfing,” Jughead said, though that was a lie. The truth was F.P. Jones had no idea what his son was doing, and beyond half-hearted offers, he didn’t seem to care much.

“Screw that,” Archie protested, “live with me.” Archie’s dogged determination and loyalty made Jughead smile, though his pride wouldn’t let him accept.

“This is temporary, man,” he insisted, though these days it was hard even for Jughead to believe his own words. “I’m going to figure something out. Just don’t tell anybody. Especially not Betty.” Since their kiss, Jughead had been avoiding her, though it was growing more and more impossible, and he was beginning to regret the entire thing. Besides, she would be worse than Archie, and the girl living on Elm street with two involved parents wouldn’t understand what he was dealing with.

“Betty?” Archie scoffed. “She’s not gonna care. If anyone’s gonna be a snob about it, maybe Veronica.” Jughead tried not to laugh. How could he tell the clueless boy-next-door that she had been the most understanding of anyone he knew? He had been avoiding her too, but at this point even he didn’t know why.

“Right, well, exactly,” he stammered awkwardly. “Don’t tell her either.” He walked away then, into the growing crowd of students, and once again, despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to the very girl he was trying to ignore.

* * *

**Veronica**

The rec room was always busy before class, but between her four friends, the atmosphere was chilly at best, with only Kevin willing to warm it up by flashing Veronica a wan smile. Betty was frantic, as usual, but now she had a good reason. She sat beside Jughead on one of the red sofas, and Veronica wondered why he had been so distant lately. They hadn’t known each other long, were barely friends, but still she had thought… She didn’t know what at this point, but clearly it didn’t matter anymore.

“My mom and dad don’t wanna get the police involved,” Betty was saying as Veronica sipped her morning coffee, “They don’t want anyone to know that she ran away, or about her shameful condition.” It felt like an age since the topic of conversation _hadn’t_ been about Jason Blossom, but Veronica was learning to live with it. Murders and ongoing investigations had been a dime a dozen back in New York, but it was to be expected that such a small town would be so invested in one of their own.

“Please,” Veronica sighed, both appalled by the Coopers’ attitude and hoping for a switch to something more enjoyable, “what decade is this?” Though no-one noticed, she was genuinely asking. At times the town felt normal, but every now and then she felt like she was living in the 50s.

“Well, since she knew where Jason’s getaway car was they’re afraid people might think she burned it,” Betty continued, “and that if she did --”

“She could be the murderer, covering her tracks” Jughead finished the thought for her, though he barely looked up as he frowned at a hangnail on his left hand he was picking away at.

“Who did burn the car?” Archie asked, though it seemed more out of concern for his friends than a genuine desire to know whodunnit.

“Sheriff Keller says it’s possible someone was following us.” Veronica exhaled deeply. _Of course someone was following them,_ she thought. _It’s Riverdale_.

“Honestly, guys, we should just move,” Veronica added, and how she wished her words could come true.

“Guys,” Betty said, sighing, and she looked to be on the verge of tears, “what if Polly’s really hurt? What if whoever killed Jason is coming after her next?” And at that moment, Veronica recoiled involuntarily as she watched Jughead drape his arm over Betty’s shoulders to comfort her, and she reached up to caress his hand. Veronica couldn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing, and it stirred uneasy feelings within her that she was not prone to experiencing.

The moment was over quickly, but their hands lingered, as did the feeling. Though, Veronica prayed that would go away soon. When she caught Jughead’s eye, he quickly removed his hand from Betty’s grasp, and refused to meet her gaze for the rest of the conversation.

“Seconded,” Kevin announced, though Veronica had not been paying attention to know what the first thing was. “We can talk to my dad together about how he has to be discreet.”

Jughead frowned. “No offense, Kev, but your dad answers to a higher authority than God.” He left a dramatic pause, and Veronica wondered if he was able to phrase it in a _more_ pretentious way. “The Blossoms. They’re the first people that he would tell.” Veronica was new to Riverdale, but she knew wealth, and if her father’s dealings with the law were any indication, Jughead was absolutely right.

“And if there’s anyone to keep this a secret from, it’s the Blossoms,” Betty said, and Veronica was briefly hypnotised by the way her glossy, blonde ponytail bobbed with every feverish movement of her head. “They’d twist it around, and go after Polly out of spite.” Betty sighed again in resignation, and it was clear there was nothing else to be said or done. At least, not for now.

They left for their next classes in silence, the boys going one way, the girls another. At the earliest opportunity, Veronica pulled her friend aside for a friendly chat, thought it was more of an interrogation if she was being honest. 

“Did I just notice Riverdale High’s very own Holden Caulfield put his arm around you?” she asked, with raised eyebrows. The blush that creeped across Betty’s pale skin was all the answer she needed, and that uneasy feeling stirred within her again.

“Ok, so, the past couple of days I haven’t been in a great place… emotionally,” she explained, her face as pink as her sweater, “and Jughead was really there for me.” Though Veronica was not a fan of this idea of a relationship, she was not about to ruin another one for her best friend. Besides, she had no claim on Jughead. They were barely even friends.

“Oh, my god. Swoon,” she said, with her best imitation of real enthusiasm. Betty seemed to buy it, so it would do. “If he helped my girl navigate some turbulent waters, well, then...” she continued, putting on her airs and graces to seem lofty as she swept her effortless waves back and said, “Veronica Lodge approves.” Betty scrunched up her nose in a way that said she was embarrassed, but she was grinning nonetheless. “Come on, let’s go find your sister.”

They walked through the halls to their next class, and began discussing where Polly might have run off to. Before they could get very far, Kevin approached them, frantic, his phone in hand.

“You guys, oh my god,” he said, breathless and wide-eyed, making Veronica fear something terrible had happened. “Cheryl just tweeted: “Hashtag Polly Cooper killed my brother. Hashtag nowhere to hide. Hashtag sharpen your pitchforks.” Betty took the phone to look for herself, as Veronica once again wondered how town this weird and old-fashioned still existed.

As Betty read, her eyes grew as wide as Kevin’s. “We need to find Polly before the Blossoms do.”

* * *

**Jughead**

That day, Eversgreen Forest was bright and breezy, and sunlight poured through the fading orange leaves, breaking it apart into hundreds of blinding pinpricks of light. Jughead stood, his boots caked with drying mud, with Betty before a modest group who had agreed to help them find the elusive Polly Cooper, her very own parents among them.

As Betty ran through their plan for the search, Jughead found himself thinking about his own father. The meeting they had had earlier still troubled him; he kept repeating it in his mind like a broken record.

Sunnyside trailer park had always been an oxymoron; the place was grey and wet and depressing, and the rusted old mailbox with faded white lettering was the least upsetting thing about it. When Jughead went there that morning, the ground was wet and muddy, and he could feel the moisture in the air.

He opened the door to the Jones’ trailer and stepped inside, kicking an empty bottle as he did so. The place smelled of cigarette smoke and old beer, the cause of which was strewn across the sofa, floor and kitchen. The tv had been left on, the carpet had the smell of vomit ingrained in the wool, and Jughead had been sad to admit that this was just what he had expected.

When F.P. had entered the kitchen, coughing, he smelled even worse than the trailer itself, and Jughead’s frown deepened. “Prodigal son returns,” he said, raising his drink in a sarcastic display. Jughead remembered his eyes had been red and puffy, whether from crying or from drink he could not say, and he looked a far cry from the Serpent king everyone knew him to be. “How you doing?” he asked. “You look good.”

Jughead had wanted to say that was no thanks to him, but instead all that had come out was, “Hanging in there.” That seemed to satisfy his dad, though he did store away the whiskey bottle as soon as Jughead said it. “I came by to ask if… you would consider going back to work with Fred Andrews.”

His dad had seemed neither surprised nor pleased, and Jughead had taken it as a very bad sign. “Yeah,” he said in his exasperated drawl, “he called me. I said no.” Seeing the look on his son’s face, F.P. matched his frown, and for a moment they looked like the same person. “He fired me, Jughead. What kind of man would I be if I went back, hat-in-hand?”

“For starters? A man with a job.” Jughead hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but his natural impulses for snark, combined with a stubborn personality and lack of patience, had taken over. “Trying to fix his family.” Jughead had sensed his father growing frustrated, so when he started slamming doors it had not come as a surprise.

“Talk to your mom,” he said, through gritted teeth. “She’s the one who gave up on us. Took your sister.” He was right, to an extent, but anyone could see she hadn’t been completely wrong to leave. Though he still resented her for going without him, and she had never told him why.

“Will you please just go see Mr Andrews?” Jughead pleaded, an action he was not at all used to. “He’s willing to give you another chance.” F.P’s throaty laugh managed only to inflame Jughead’s anger even more.

“He’s willing, huh?” F.P. asked rhetorically. “That’s generous of him. After all the crap he pulled on me.” He sat down then, exhausted, whether by this conversation or just in general, Jughead couldn’t say. But, he would not let this go. Not this time.

“Dad, don’t you wanna see our family back together?” he asked, and despite his dad’s sigh Jughead could tell he was listening again. “Mom and Jellybean could come home. _I_ could come home.” Jughead thought he noticed tears in his dad’s eyes and, though it didn’t excuse anything, he was reminded how much this was hurting him too. “It’s not too late,” Jughead added, and without another word, he had left.

Now, as Archie, Jughead, Veronica, the Coopers and the Pussycats alike all shouted Polly’s name whilst trudging through the undergrowth, Jughead would have given anything for a burger and a bed.

The only enjoyable part of the entire affair for Jughead was the distraction of listening to Veronica detail her plans for getting back at her mom, in the most _New York Socialite_ way possible. “Back in New York, whenever I needed to blow off some steam, or force my mother’s hand, I’d go out on a bender,” she explained to him and Kevin, grinning mischievously in a way that was quintessentially her. “Dancing with my fave celebrity gal pal, my best gay,” she continued, nodding to Kevin cheerfully, “and some dimwitted, sexy, disposable arm candy. That’s Josie, you...” she said, meaning Kevin again.

“Honoured,” he said, and Jughead thought he actually meant it.

“And, as for my arm candy…” Veronica trailed off, scanning the area for possible candidates. Jughead and Kevin followed her gaze to where Reggie stood, making funny faces into his phone camera. “...he’ll do.”

“You mean I don’t qualify for any of those?” Jughead asked, mockingly, and the adorable, high-pitched giggle Veronica responded with was infectious. Once that was over, however, Jughead was back to wanting all of this to be over. Solitude was his only comfort. 

Seemingly, his prayers were answered. The search for Polly Cooper had ended almost as quickly as it began, when the Blossoms, and their search party of old-money inbreds and _actual_ hunting dogs, had started throwing accusations and demoralised everyone there. Everyone went home soon after, and Jughead pondered where that was for him.

* * *

**Veronica**

Veronica sat down at her desk in the Blue and Gold, extra-strong coffee in hand. Her night had been long and tiring, and she was glad of the silence and solitude this place offered. And the rest. Her legs felt like lead after all the dancing she had done the night before. It had all been worth it, however, as her mother had folded.

When an exhausted and slightly drunk Veronica had stumbled through the door last night, so began the negotiation that eventually lead to compromise: Veronica had to accept her mother’s affair with Fred Andrews and end her expensive rebellion; Hermione would not be allowed to bring Fred to the Pembrooke, and she would tell Hiram about the forged signature.

All in all, Veronica reflected it had been a very successful negotiation, but the arrival of Sheriff Keller and Principal Weatherbee at the office door made her mood sour almost instantly. “Anything I can do for you, Sheriff?” she asked, as politely as possible.

“Morning Miss Lodge,” he said, somewhat awkwardly, “I don’t suppose you know where Mr Jones might be this morning, do you?” Before Veronica could answer, the man himself stepped into the room, and slowed cautiously when he noticed their guests. Jughead looked to Veronica questioningly, then to Keller and Weatherbee, noticing how they were eyeing his ‘murder board’.

“Hey,” he said, weakly, and it sounded like that was all he could say as a certain nervousness settled over him. “Uh, what’s up?”

“We’re gonna need you to come down to the station with us,” Sheriff Keller responded very bluntly. Neither of them were particularly surprised, but Veronica could tell he was scared. She guessed that growing up on the Southside meant he didn’t have a very good impression of the cops, though she thought that it probably wasn’t due to any personal encounters.

As Jughead placed his bag down on the desk, Veronica took the opportunity to stand and took Jughead’s hand in hers. The contact sent jolts through her arm, and it seemed as though Jughead felt it too.

“Jug,” she whispered, in a low voice so the intruders wouldn’t hear, “listen to me. No matter what they ask you, you’re innocent.” Jughead nodded uncertainly, glancing at the Sheriff, who had taken the opportunity to study the board. “And, if things get a little intense, make sure you say that you’re invoking your right to a lawyer, or a phone call, or that you plead the fifth. You can’t just say you _want_ those things, cause you’ve given them a loophole and they might just ignore you. It’s total bullshit but… it happens.”

Jughead narrowed his eyes at her. “How do you know all this, Veronica?” She fell silent and suddenly became very interested in the straps on her shoes. Unfortunately, like her, Jughead was not one to give up. “Is it from… _personal_ experience?” Veronica glanced up at him then, and she knew her face betrayed the truth.

Mercifully, Sheriff Keller saved her from having to answer. “Come on, Mr Jones, it’s time for you to come with us.” Jughead flashed one last surreptitious glance at Veronica, before following them. Veronica tapped her foot against the soft carpet, her heart hammering in her chest as she tried to figure out if her idea was good or completely awful. But, as Jughead made his way out into the hall, she had run out of time and decided to just go for it.

“Hold on, Sheriff,” she called out, making the party stop in their tracks and turn to look at her quizzically, “I’ll be coming along, too.”

“No, you won’t, Miss Lodge,” Sheriff Keller said, smiling condescendingly at her. Veronica was willing to be civil, but a smile like that always had the power to make her quietly angry.

“I will,” she responded definitively. “You see, Jughead here is a minor. Without any family around, he needs someone to make sure the law is observed, and that when he wants a phone call, or a lawyer…” She paused, letting that one sink in, allowing him to remember who her father was, “he gets it. I know our rights, Sheriff.” She smiled sweetly at him, though her eyes showed just how serious she was, and Veronica took a little pride in the fond way Jughead was grinning at her.

Sheriff Keller sighed and gave up, and she left the office with them. Jughead mouthed a ‘thank you’ at her as they walked. Beyond those doors, Jughead could be seen by every single student, leaving school with a cop and a principal. He wasn’t wearing handcuffs, but with the look on Betty and Archie’s faces, he might as well have been.

“Call my dad,” he said to them, hurriedly as he tried to keep pace with his escort. Betty and Archie promised they would. Their expressions at seeing Veronica with him was even more bemused, so she just awkwardly smiled and kept walking.

The car journey to the station felt longer than it was, and Veronica focused her attention on the cold, iron bars that separated them from the driver. It all brought back horrible memories that she tried, and failed, to push down. When Jughead reached over and squeezed her hand, however, all other thoughts fled her, and she squeezed it back without a word.

* * *

**Jughead**

He left the station that afternoon, with Archie, Fred, Veronica and Betty, who kept her arm tightly entwined with his. The Sheriff’s words were still ringing in his ears; _Jughead, kid like you, raised on the wrong side of the tracks by a dead-beat dad, bullied by kids like Jason Blossom. I mean who wouldn’t want to lash out at that?_ Jughead had to admit, every so often he felt like taking a torch to this whole town, so he stopped answering and asked - no, _invoked his right_ \- for a lawyer.

Betty was there for him in that cold, damp interrogation room, and he later came to learn that Archie and Fred got him out by telling Sheriff Keller he had been working for Andrew’s Construction on the day of the murder. And Veronica… she was there through it all. His own father, however, was unsurprisingly absent.

“Jughead!” They heard his call ringing across the courtyard, and a dishevelled F.P. Jones rushed forward, though Jughead failed to feel relieved at the sight of him. “Sorry. I came as soon as I got your messages. My phone. The freaking battery, I forgot to plug it in last night.” He laughed it off, and was answered with silence. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Jughead said, hoping to diffuse the tension. With his dad in such a state, it wouldn’t be long before someone _actually_ got thrown in jail. “It’s fine now. Mr Andrews took care of it.” He added that last part out of spite, though he would be ashamed to admit it.

“What jacked-up crap did they accuse you of in there, huh?” he questioned, and the anger in his voice only served to inflame Jughead’s even more. “Those bastards trying to throw you in jail like they did your old man? Well, screw that!” No-one else said a word as his dad made such a spectacle of himself, and Jughead was too tense to even move. “I will rip Keller a new one for trying to pull that on you --” He walked towards the station, but Fred got in the way.

“He’s my son!” F.P. shouted, as he shoved Fred back. “He’s my son! You’d do the same for your boy.” Jughead was afraid to see the look on Veronica’s face as she witnessed the thing he was most ashamed of. When he gathered up the courage to glance her way, all he saw was a soft, encouraging smile.

As F.P. made his way to rant at the sheriff, Jughead grabbed him by the collar and whispered firmly, “Dad. Don’t make things worse.” He watched his dad soften, and nod humbly, and he realised that now the puffy redness of his eyes was from the tears he was fighting back, not the drink.

“You coming home with me?” he asked as he staggered away across the damp gravel.

“He can stay with us, Mr Jones.” Archie looked like a frightened puppy, but he stood his ground and looked at F.P. in the eye. “We already offered.” Jughead wondered if Veronica would mention her offer, but hoped she would not. He didn’t relish the thought of explaining it all right now, so thankfully, she answered his prayers.

“Is that what you want?” F.P. turned to his son, and Jughead studied his feet, not daring to look his dad in the eye and reveal the truth. The drawn-out pause was enough, however, and F.P. got a rather rude awakening. “Maybe that’s for the best, if… If you don’t mind, Fred.” he was getting choked up, and that almost had Jughead in tears himself.

“I’ll -- I’ll go with you, dad.” His father looked half-broken, and Jughead couldn’t bear to leave him out in the cold. Instead of walking home, as he expected, F.P. took Jughead by the shoulder and spoke in a low voice which seemed to crack on every other word.

“Son, listen to me,” he said, taking Jughead’s face in his gnarled hands, “I’m gonna do what you want, get my act together. I’m gonna get your mom and Jellybean home so we’re all under the same roof. I promise. But I just need a little time to do that.” Jughead bit his lip, holding back the tidal wave that was threatening to spill from his eyes, and trying not to think about what Veronica and Archie must think of him now. 

“Not a lot, not long. A month, two at the most. Hey.” Jughead dragged his gaze back to the man who was supposed to be acting like his father. “Then we’ll be back on track, alright? You, uh -- You believe that, don’t you?” He didn’t, but what could he really say? If Jughead admitted how little faith he had, his dad might never get off the couch. He might die with a bottle in his hand. So, in the end, he said what he needed to hear.

“Yeah. I believe you, dad.” The embrace they shared was reluctant and awkward, but it was a start. When it was over, F.P. laughed it off the mask his tears, and stumbled away the same way he had arrived. Betty rushed to comfort Jughead, and he accepted her touch quietly. But, as she tried to lead him away, he turned back and met Veronica’s eyes.

“Hey, Veronica, can I… can I talk to you for a second?” They all gaped at him, even Veronica until she cautiously nodded, and he felt the relief wash over him. Betty was staring at him, and he knew this would require an explanation. Unfortunately, he had none. “I just have a question. I’ll see you later, okay?” Grudgingly, she nodded, and finally let go of his hand. Stuffing them in his pockets, he started walking, and he knew the raven-haired princess was following.

* * *

**Veronica**

The road from North to South was long and well-trod, and they had passed most of it in silence, kicking up stones with their hands in their pockets. The silence was companionable, but Veronica would have preferred not to have come at all. She was not okay with this hot-and-cold thing Jughead was pulling; that had been _her_ move, before her reformation, and she did not appreciate being on the other end.

“Jug?” she asked, finally getting him to look up from his own, clearly fascinating, shoelaces. “Are you gonna say anything?” He gazed at her, and said nothing, and Veronica saw a world in those blue eyes. “Look, if you’re not gonna say anything, I’ll just go, cause I’m getting really sick of you ghosting me, and then asking me to talk, and then --”

“How did you know all that stuff?” he asked, interrupting her inane ramblings, “...about the cops, and stuff?” It was a question she had been avoiding, but she always knew it would catch up with her. She didn’t peg Jughead Jones as the type to let things go.

“Um… you want the whole story?” He nodded fervently, and she took a deep, steadying breath. She was naturally a private person, but this, perhaps, was an exception. “Okay… so, back in New York, I used to get arrested a lot. Like… a lot.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?” he asked.

“Some loud parties, underage drinking, but, mostly… absolutely nothing.” They paused along the dirt road, and she enjoyed witnessing the realisation dawn on his face. Once he got it, they kept walking. “Yeah. I might’ve been out drinking late, or sometimes I was just hanging out with my friends, in the middle of the day. One way or another, cops would show up, ask what we were doing, and when we all got a little defensive, the handcuffs would come out.”

Jughead listened to her entire story attentively, and she could tell he was taking in everything she said. “I was never one to _come quietly_ , so I always ended up with a bruise or two. I learned the hard way about how to ask for things. The first few times, they wouldn’t let me call anyone, or provide me with a lawyer. When I asked, they would say, ‘ _You can ask for as much stuff as you want. You could ask for a gun, doesn’t mean we’ll give you one._ ’” Her low imitation of male cop’s voice was terrible, though she noticed Jughead didn’t laugh, and that made her happy. “It would be up to my friends who _weren’t_ arrested, for obvious reasons, to call someone.”

“But, your dad --” he wondered.

“Oh, he always got us out,” she continued, as though it was obvious. “He bailed my friends out, too, no matter what. And, rich or not, he’d never ask any of my friends to pay him back. Not one.” Just the thought made her smile; she remembered late nights with her friends, too tired to go back home, but not too tired to watch Netflix and play board games with the great Hiram Lodge. “That never stopped them, but it did become less frequent. If it wasn’t an arrest, it was always something. So, I learned.” 

Jughead ruminated on her words, and she could see the thoughts racing through his brain. Eventually, he spoke, and the words came out breathy and quiet, “Veronica, I’m so sorry.” She scoffed.

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m more lucky than most, to be Hiram Lodge’s daughter.” They both knew she was right, and didn’t even bother contemplating the alternative. They stopped at the entrance to Sunnyside Trailer Park, and Veronica gave Jughead an incredulous look. “Is this where you wanted to take me?”

“No,” he admitted, “my legs just sort of… took me here.” He slipped into another contemplative mood, staring across the muddy fields, a landscape broken up by the windblown trailers populating the area.

“Home?” she asked, genuinely unclear and curious. Jughead looked down at her, and she found herself staggeringly unable to read what she saw. His beanie sat amongst his dark curls, damp from the moisture that permeated the air.

“Only one I’ve got,” he said, after a pause, though he didn’t sound too happy about it. Veronica wouldn't have been either.

"You could've had one with me," she said meekly, and she couldn't bear to look up and see his reaction, just in case he still hated the idea. "You still could."

He looked at her and smiled, biting his lip in a feeble attempt to hide the extent of his grin. "Thanks, Veronica. I got this." She playfully elbowed him, which accidentally sent him staggering in the damp, muddy grass.

"You don't always have to figure things out by yourself, you know," she teased, with an admonishing stare that was only half serious.

"I could say the same to you," he shot back, leaning against the sign post for the trailer park, which he quickly realised would not support his weight. His awkward corrections made her giggle.

"Touché, Jones. Touché." Veronica took her cue to leave, and turned on her heel to walk away with pride. At the last moment, however, she turned and added, "You know, you're not so bad. For a writer." She was glad to see him laugh. 

"You're not so bad yourself," he answered, and they both knew he meant it. "I'll see you round, Lodge."

"See ya," she called back. And with that, Jughead was left alone.

* * *

**Jughead**

That evening, they all gathered at the bar of Pop's diner, waiting for Penelope and Clifford Blossom to sweep in and whisk away Polly and her baby to the safety of Thornhill. Jughead wasn't sure how _safe_ it could actually be, but it wasn't his place to say anything. 

Thankfully, Cheryl arrived without her parents, and told them all what he knew was true: the Blossoms wanted the baby, but not Polly, and she wouldn't be finding a home with them any time soon. 

So, as Polly Cooper moved in with the Lodges, and Jughead with the Andrews', all was quiet for a time. The morning would bring something quite different, however. Answers. Rarely truthful, never peaceful, but they were all people had. And if F.P. Jones didn't show up for work the next day… Well, at least he would know.

_Hope. A word so close to "home", and as tricky. As much as we wanted Jason's killer caught, and the town, our home, to feel safe again, with every day that passed our hopes dimmed more and more._

_There's that old cliched saying: 'It's darkest before the dawn.' And sometimes there's just… darkness._


	8. On the Outside

**Veronica**

_The Coopers. The Stepfords of Riverdale. Highschool sweethearts who got married and had two beautiful daughters, Polly and Betty. Until Jason Blossom happened. And now, we would hear from the person who was closest to him those days leading up to his disappearance: Polly Cooper._

_How a casual conversation turned into an epic forbidden romance. How, for reasons still murky, their respective parents tried to tear them apart. How their break-up was short-lived because Polly soon learned she was pregnant with Jason’s baby. How they became secretly engaged, with his grandmother’s blessing and her heirloom ring, and made plans to run away together. And start a new life._

_And how their dreams of escape went up in flames._

Veronica had sat by Polly’s side through a very stressful interrogation by Sheriff Keller, which managed to leave the poor girl in tears. Veronica felt for the girl, though she had no idea what she was going through. She was glad to be able to help in some way; even if Jughead had been ungrateful, Polly certainly wasn’t, and Betty had grown even more affectionate towards her since they took in her sister.

In school the next day, Betty once again started on her seemingly endless list of thoughts about her life, all of which were negative, none of which actually involved anyone she was speaking to. Veronica was nothing if not supportive, but Betty did not make it easy for her. Everyone else put on a good show; only Val, lounging in a green armchair with Archie perched on the arm, looked as bored as she felt.

“And, now, Polly has convinced herself that no-one wants her baby,” the blonde concluded at last, and Veronica held back from sighing with relief that it was over.

“Besides, of course, the child-snatching Blossom monsters,” Kevin put in, rather unhelpfully, seeing as Cheryl had joined them for once. “No offence, Cheryl,” he added, looking a little sheepish. Cheryl’s smile was as forced and fake as her family’s silverware.

“None taken,” she said, rather chirpily, though Veronica recognised the strain in her tone from her own days as a world-class bitch in New York.

“So, your parents want Polly but not the baby,” Jughead said, resting his head in his hand as he lounged on the red sofa, struggling to make sense of it all, “and the Blossoms want the baby and not Polly? It’s a true Gourdian knot.” Veronica nodded along. In that moment, she desperately wanted to help her friend’s sister, but she was not Alexander. If she could take a sword to this whole thing, she would. But, alas, she left all her weapons in New York.

“It’s… an impossible situation,” Betty said, as though she was correcting him, and Veronica couldn’t help but be confused. She looked over, and Jughead was too, seeing as that is exactly what he just said. Their eyes met, their expressions matched, and Veronica knew he wasn’t going to say anything. So, she would.

“Betty,” she almost laughed, “you do know what a Gourdian knot is, right? It literally means an impossible situation.” Betty stared at her blankly, and her face grew flushed against her will. For a moment, Veronica felt ashamed, as Betty clearly prayed for someone to speak up and reduce her embarrassment. She realised she would have to come to the rescue.

“Anyway, this is not an impossible situation,” Veronica said. “An impossible situation is being invited to the Vanity Fair Oscar party, and Elton John’s Oscar party on the same night.” Veronica felt she was being helpful, but Kevin placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back, which made her think she was mistaken. So, she turned to him to finish her story. “Which happened to me one year, I know.” She relished the awe-filled look on Kevin’s cute face, glad she could still impress _some_ people.

“This is merely an annoying situation,” Veronica persisted, a sly smile spreading across her glossed lips. “But luckily, I have been percolating on an idea, hellishly simple in its conception. What if my mom and I were to host a baby shower?” Veronica grinned broadly, both at her own genius plan, and her ability to fit the word ‘hellishly’ into almost every sentence.

“Count me in,” Cheryl said, and it seemed like she actually meant it. Veronica counted that as an achievement in and of itself.

“You want Polly to feel loved and supported,” Veronica continued, gripping Betty’s pale fingers with her own, “right?”

“Yeah, but, ideally by her own parents,” Betty said, her face scrunching up in that way when she was trying to tell someone why they were wrong. But Veronica was never wrong.

“Ok, so baby steps, girl,” she answered, careful not to upset Betty even further on an already trying day. Veronica may seem icy at times, but she truly felt for her friend, even if it got tiring sometimes. “Get Polly and your parents in the same room, in a public setting where they can’t fight, and voila. Let the healing begin.” The slight lift of Betty’s pink lips told Veronica that she had won. Again.

“Am I expected to come to this thing?” Jughead asked, rather incredulously. Veronica knew this wouldn’t be anywhere close to his scene, but that didn’t matter. They both loved Betty, and that was what mattered.

“Of course. You’re Betty’s boyfriend, so…” Veronica shrugged and sipped on her coffee, and watched with amusement at all her friends’ faces. Archie eyed the pair uneasily, Veronica watched Kevin’s face go from his usual bright smile to the shocked and concerned face of a dad finding out his daughter is dating a biker, and Jughead…

Jughead’s face was the worst, seeing as he was _the boyfriend._ At the mere mention of the word, he looked away and shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and some deep, old-Veronica part of her was delighted at his expression.

“Oh my god, you guys, relax,” she said quickly, hoping to diffuse some of the tension. “It’s just a word that begins with the letter B.” Betty was smiling softly at Jughead, seemingly unaware. “Betty, what do you say?” Veronica asked, though she already knew she had won. Before Veronica had the opportunity to relish in her triumph, a malevolent, blonde demon in the form of Alice Cooper stormed into the room, pointing her perfectly manicured fingers in their faces.

“Elizabeth Cooper,” she said, sternly.

“Mom?” Betty was appalled at her sudden appearance in school.

“I need you and you” Alice continued, pointing at her daughter and Veronica respectively, and Veronica felt her jaw drop open in fear, “right now.” Her tone brokered no argument, so the two friends quickly did as they were told. There was one thing that scared Veronica, and right now, she looked very, very angry.

* * *

Veronica was perched on the edge of her seat as Mrs Cooper paced before them, shouting and gesticulating with her manicured hands. She watched warily, anxious not to land herself in even more hot water. If there was anything Veronica had learned from her friend’s ramblings, it was not to get on Alice Cooper’s nerves when she was in one of her moods.

“Sheriff Keller told us everything,” she said, in that calm but forceful tone that was somehow more scary than shouting. “How you’re hiding Polly at the Pembrooke.”

“Better than in an insane asylum,” Betty clapped back, which clearly did not sit well with her mother…

“Actually, Mrs Cooper, that’s on me,” Veronica stated, which caused Alice to turn on her like a predator with her prey. Still, Veronica stood her ground. Metaphorically, as she was sitting. “I was the one who suggested that Polly stay with us.” Betty came in with the defense.

“She’s trying to help,” the blonde said forcefully, “unlike you and dad, who want Polly to give the baby up for adoption.”

“Betty,” Alice began, rather condescendingly in Veronica’s humble opinion, “it’s what’s best for Polly and the baby.”

“Mom, that’s not your choice.” Every time Veronica thought she knew who Betty was, she found a way to surprise her. Sometimes, it was for the worse, but this time, Veronica couldn’t help but be impressed. “Your choice is whether or not you wanna be a part of Polly’s life.” Alice was stunned into the silence, so Betty pressed her advantage. “Veronica and her mom have offered to host a baby shower.”

“Well, that is hardly appropriate,” she said, incensed, crossing her arms to emphasise her displeasure. Veronica was more than happy to watch the spectacle unfold, as Betty was simply not having it.

“Really?” Betty scoffed, standing up to gain an equal footing with her mother. “Because I think it’s an amazing idea. You wanna be loving and supportive, like a normal grandmother, then great. Otherwise, stay away.”

When Alice looked her way, Veronica wore a smug, pretty smile. She felt a swell of pride for her best friend, and the smug satisfaction that comes from leaving your adversary speechless. She had a good feeling about this baby shower. A _very_ good feeling.

* * *

**Jughead**

It was not often that Archie Andrews had particularly good or well-thought out ideas, but even Jughead had to admit that this was one of those rare occasions. The stunned look on Mr Andrews’ face when they pulled up at the site with a truck full of equipment said it all.

Since Clifford Blossom was up to his usual, Machiavellian tricks, all of Fred Andrews’ crew had been poached, leaving him without a source of income. So, as much as Jughead was opposed to building on the drive-in land, he couldn’t say no to the opportunity to help his surrogate father.

And Jughead wasn’t the only one. Kevin, Moose and Reggie were there to help too, despite the former seeming to lack any interest in such an activity.

Fred did his best to object, but Archie had logic on his side.

“We can work after practice and on weekends,” Archie reasoned, “to help you keep on schedule. I worked for you all summer, dad. We know what we’re doing. These guys --”

“We’re bruiser studs, Mr Andrews,” Moose chimed in, “at least, some of us are.” He looked at Jughead when he said it, which was a little uncalled for, but he let it go. A few months ago, a joke like that might have really gotten him down. Jughead briefly wondered what had changed.

Eventually, with a little prompting from Hermione Lodge, Fred gave in, and they all got to work. They spent the whole day there, breaking the ground that used to support his favourite place in the world. And his home, since his dad became unbearable to live with. But Fred and Archie were his home now, and it felt good to help them out like this.

Night fell after a long day, in which Jughead had to endure his fair share of taunts from the football players. It was all worth it though, to take off that hard hat and be rewarded with a refreshing soda and a warm smile as they stepped in from the cold.

“Crap. Hey guys, I forgot my phone.” Moose had left the trailer before anyone else could bat an eye. He was only gone for a moment when they heard it. A resounding crash, and then all the electricity guttered out. They all jumped to action, dashing from the trailer to investigate, where they found a busted generator, Moose sprawled on the ground, and a truck disappearing into the distance.

“Moose, are you okay?” Archie called, once they reached him. Fred immediately went to help him, and Archie peered into the distance, trying to catch a glimpse of the thugs who did this.

“Stay down. We’ll get you some help,” Fred reassured him, cradling Moose’s fragile head. Jughead was concerned with more than just that, though. They needed to know who was responsible.

“Who did this to you, Moose?” he asked, though given the darkness and Moose’s battered face, he was not optimistic for an answer.

“No clue,” he answered, confirming what Jughead feared. “But they said as long as we keep working, they’re gonna keep coming back.” That did not sit well with any of them. How were they supposed to work, how were Fred and Archie supposed to live, if they kept getting more visits like this?

They would have to put an end to it. One way or another.

* * *

As usual, when things got tough, Jughead retreated to Pop’s for refuge and a decent bite to eat. This time, he found Betty and Veronica there too, seemingly waiting for him. He saw Veronica first, and she made him smile. He was about to vault over the seats and plant himself next to her, like he did the very first time, but he saw Betty sitting across from her and remembered he had a girlfriend. Almost as soon as he sat down, Pop appeared with a burger and fries, and that made him smile again.

They quickly got on to the topic of the construction site, just as he had feared. Jughead begrudgingly filled them in.

“Poor Moose,” Betty said, rubbing Jughead’s arm as if _he_ was the one who needed comforting. “Is he okay?”

“His name’s Moose,” Jughead responded, rather sarcastically, “he’ll be fine.” Veronica giggled, which made him feel good. He was glad to know he could still occasionally make some people laugh.

Before they could continue, Archie stormed in and planted himself next to Veronica. He was angry and out of breath.

“Dude, what the hell?” he began, which didn’t give Jughead much context to respond to. “I’ve been texting you.” Jughead averted his gaze. He wanted no part of Archie’s sudden turn to vigilante justice, especially against his own father’s gang. Besides, they didn’t even know who it was. 

“Archie,” Betty said softly, “Jughead just told us what happened yesterday.” She reached across the table to take his hand in a comforting gesture, but Archie seemed in no mood. He withdrew from her grasp, making Betty flinch.

“Though I checked out at the words ‘construction’ and ‘site’,” Veronica added, though Jughead didn’t buy. He could tell she had. She always listened. Archie apparently had no time for her jokes, however.

“Moose and I are going to the Southside to find those Serpents,” he said in a rush, still breathless. It was as if finding these guys was his one purpose in life, and that made Jughead a little scared. “You in?”

“Woah, hey, you didn’t say it was the Serpents who beat Moose up,” Betty interjected.

“Because we don’t know that, for a fact,” Jughead said forcefully, making it clear to Archie that this was the wrong thing to do. And it was, though Jughead would be lying if he said that a small part of him wasn’t worried about what going to the Southside might reveal about his own family.

“Well, it’s still worth a shot if it might help my dad.” Archie was ever the optimist, even when what he believed made no sense at all. “Kevin’s boyfriend can get us into some bar where the Serpents hang out. If Moose spots them, we call Sheriff Keller and get these goons arrested.”

Jughead shook his head, anger and frustration stirring inside him. Archie’s plan was foolish. Jughead couldn’t and wouldn’t condone this, but there wasn’t much he could do to stop it either.

“Archie,” Betty muttered, “the Serpents are dangerous. They’re drug dealers” That warranted a judging look from Jughead. How would Betty know what the Serpents are like? What authority did she have to make such a blanket statement? Needless to say, Jughead, despite not being one himself, was offended.

“What?” he asked, looking at his girlfriend with a mix of shock and anger. “Says who?”

“Polly,” she said, as if it was obvious and he was being ridiculous for not realising it. “Remember? Trev told us that Jason was dealing drugs? It was for the Serpents.” Jughead fell into an uneasy silence, not wanting to get into a fight with her, but still knowing she was wrong. Jason doing one deal didn’t exactly make the whole group drug dealers, did it?

“You heard my dad, Jughead,” Archie pleaded. “Clifford Blossom is trying to torpedo him. Sheriff Keller basically blew him off right in front of us. Somebody needs to do something.” Jughead said nothing, averting his eyes instead. He knew where Archie was coming from, but he couldn’t condone this. He wouldn’t.

Eventually, Archie gave up trying and stood, shrugging on his jacket as he made to leave.

“Archie, going into that bar is a bad idea,” Jughead stated, for the very last time.

“Jughead, are you coming with me or not?” Jughead stared up at him, open-mouthed. He couldn’t say yes, but he couldn’t find it in him to say no either. He looked away, and met Veronica’s worried eyes. She shook her head a little, and Jughead knew he was right not to go. Archie understood what his silence meant. 

“Thanks for having my back,” he said disappointedly. As he walked away, Jughead was more shaken by those few words coming from his best friend than anything else. He silently willed himself not to cry.

* * *

**Veronica**

The Pembrooke looked like a dream, thanks to her and her mother’s constant efforts. The decorations were numerous, but tasteful, and Veronica had insisted on testing the food to make sure it was up to scratch. Most importantly, Polly was smiling more brightly than Veronica had ever seen.

Guests were pouring in every second, each carrying gifts for the mother-to-be. Melody, Val and Josie were there, giving them the chance to catch up with Polly, a dear friend that they hadn’t seen in months. Veronica could practically feel the love in the room and it made her a little mushy. Once they were a few drinks in and everyone was laughing, Veronica felt comfortable enough giving door duties over to Betty, whilst she surveyed the room and kept everything in order.

Really, it was just a chance for her to relax out of the spotlight. It didn’t hurt that Jughead soon appeared at her side, placing a tiered tray of cupcakes on the oak coffee table. His face made it look like he was being forced to do hard time, and Veronica couldn’t help but grin a little at his expense.

“You’re sweet to be here,” she said, her eyes alight with mirth, “for Betty. I know this isn’t exactly your scene.” He grinned at her then, in that way that told you he was about to make some sarcastic joke. Veronica knew how to anticipate him now, yet he always managed to make her laugh anyway.

And this was no exception. 

“What?” he asked, though he could barely contain his own laughter. “Organizing a baby shower? It’s totally on my bucket list.” Veronica found herself biting her lip to keep from making a scene. Luckily, everyone’s attention suddenly became focused on the door, as Alice Cooper gingerly stepped foot inside the apartment.

“Mom?” Betty said, as startled as everyone else, though none more so than Polly herself. Veronica and Jughead watched the family of blondes interact with rapt attention, both consuming cupcakes as if they were popcorn. “Polly, look, mom’s here.”

Betty was the only one who seemed remotely excited. Polly looked terrified of what Alice Cooper might say, and Alice herself seemed uncomfortable and nervous, a rare departure from her composed and terrifying attitude.

Betty took the gift from Alice’s hands, and Alice began her timid apology.

“I’m so glad that you’re here and you’re safe,” she said, and Veronica thought she meant it. Polly smiled gingerly at her words. “You and the baby.” Polly was already hormonal, so her tears were expected. But, as mother and daughter embraced at last, Alice and Betty were getting teary too. It warmed Veronica’s heart to watch them.

Sadly, the moment was short-lived, as Cheryl burst in with an obnoxious “we’re here!” and the most expensive stroller Veronica had ever seen. Veronica, Jughead, Melody and Val all shared the same horrified, judgemental look between them as Penelope wheeled in Nana Rose, whose chair was piled high with yet more gifts. 

“No big deal,” Cheryl said, in a high-pitched voice that said this was totally a big deal. “It’s just the best stroller money can buy.” Polly seemingly had no words. “All I ask in the return is that you make me your baby’s godmother.” There was a pregnant pause, partially because the request was ridiculous, and partially because that honour had already gone to Betty. _Obviously._ Cheryl’s attempt to laugh it off as a joke did not convince Veronica one bit.

She did not want to stay for Penelope’s diatribe and Nana Rose’s voodoo nonsense, nor did she want to see the physical violence that would surely erupt between Penelope and Mrs Cooper, so picked up as many empty plates as she could see and disappeared into the kitchen.

Setting them down on the counter, Veronica spun around at the smug sound of Jughead’s voice.

“Stellar party you planned, Veronica,” he said, in a mocking tone. “So good, even the host doesn’t wanna be a part of it.” She smiled in spite of herself, like always.

“Shut up, Jughead,” she replied, and though her voice was firm her eyes were laughing. “It’s going really well. I just don’t want to get mixed up in all the drama. That room is like a powder keg, and I just wanted this to be a nice day for Polly.”

“I hear that,” he said, nodding slowly. “We can at least see her open a few presents though, right?” Veronica scrutinised him for a moment, and then agreed. As they entered the living room together, her hopes of avoiding drama were shattered, however, as Archie stepped into the apartment. An awkward hush fell over the room until he made his way straight for Jughead and Veronica at the back of the room.

Archie spoke in a quiet but angry voice. “You were protecting him. That’s why you didn’t tell me --” 

“Relax,” Jughead said, cutting him off. Veronica listened eagerly to find out what this nonsense was about. “What happened?” Betty suddenly appeared at Archie’s side, facing the pair of them somewhat confrontationally.

“Did you know Jughead’s father is a Serpent?” Archie asked, and Jughead’s wide, terrified eyes said he wasn’t ready for people to know that yet. Betty seemed equally shocked and disappointed. All of a sudden Veronica noticed Jughead’s head was turned towards her, but his eyes were downcast, as if he couldn’t bear to meet her gaze. She felt bad for him being outed like this, so she decided to break the tension.

“Okay, I’m still not clear on what the Serpents are,” she said, then gasped as if she came to a realisation. She touched Jughead’s arm, forcing him to look at her, and spoke in a low and serious voice. “Jughead, is your dad one of the Illuminati lizard people?” she asked, and despite everything, Jughead couldn’t help but laugh. _Mission accomplished_ , she thought.

“Veronica,” Betty said admonishingly, “now is not the time.” Veronica nodded and they both did their best to be serious. Luckily, Archie was able to bring down the energy very quickly.

“That’s why he tried to stop me from going to the bar,” he said, still enraged it seemed. “So I wouldn’t find out. After everything my dad has done for you--”

“Archie,” Jughead whispered, “I can explain, okay?” There was a crack in his voice that broke Veronica’s heart. She resolved to put an end to this before someone started crying.

“Not right now,” she declared, fixing them all with a forceful stare. “This is Polly’s day. So you two need to check yourselves, I mean it.” No-one moved, though. Jughead and Archie were caught in a long stare, neither one of them wanting to be the first to fold.

“Archie,” Jughead said softly, but he was cut off harshly by his friend.

“No, save it.” At that, Veronica turned Archie on his heel and marched him out the door. Betty lingered, but Veronica knew that look she had. It was shock, disappointment, and a little embarrassment. Most of all, Veronica could tell, Betty was ashamed.

* * *

**Jughead**

Jughead and Betty trudged through muddy grass to get to his dad’s trailer. She seemed to have forgiven him about his dad, though her fixation on this mystery was starting to worry him. When they talked, it seemed like that was the only thing on her mind. That, and how useful his dad might be in solving it.

He gave in, of course, and now they were on their way to talk to the last man in the world he would like to see. The baby shower had ended as Veronica suspected; Alice and Penelope yelling at each other after the latter offered to take Polly in. After that, everyone had filtered out awkwardly as Polly slowly broke down.

They reached the door and Jughead took a deep breath, steadying himself for what was to come. Betty was latched on to his arm, making him feel like he was supporting her, rather than the other way around. He pushed open the door, and was immediately hit in the face with the smell of smoke and stale alcohol. Unsurprisingly, they saw FP jump from the couch, whiskey in hand.

“Jughead,” he called, doing his best to hide his glass.

“Dad,” he replied apprehensively, “Betty Cooper. Betty, this is my dad.” She stepped forward to shake his hand. Her smile was genuine, as was Jughead’s frown.

“Nice to meet you,” FP said warmly, as he set about fixing the ratty couches as best he could. “Why don’t you guys sit down?”

“This isn’t a social call,” Jughead said bluntly. He had no time for games, especially not with _him_. “We know the Serpents had some kind of drug thing going on with Jason Blossom. Don’t even try to deny it.” Sighing, FP took a seat on the couch, apparently ready to tell all.

“The kid needed some money,” he said at last, with a weary voice, “to get away. A clean-cut kid like that, no-one’s gonna suspect him of running so we helped him, he helped us.” Even after everything his dad had done, Jughead still managed to be disappointed in him.

“Jeez, dad,” he said, “did you tell the cops that?” Though, Jughead suspected he knew the answer.

“What do you think?” was his response.

“Well, they know now. Polly told them,” Jughead stated, and, as ashamed as it made him, Jughead couldn’t help being a little satisfied with his father’s shocked face. This felt like Karma. “So, if they haven’t been by yet, they will be.” That’s when Betty stepped in, as much as Jughead wished this would just be between father and son.

“Did you ever speak to Jason? Personally?” she asked, and it was a question that needed answering. If nothing else, they might get a lead out of this meeting, so that was something.

“My guys gave him some product,” FP answered, shrugging. “When it wasn’t delivered, we figured he took off with our stash, until…” FP trailed off. No-one felt like saying it out loud. There was a silence then, unending and deafening. Jughead looked at his father and tried to guess what was going on in his head, and tried to stop himself from asking the question he couldn’t get out of his head.

Jughead knew, if he did, there might be no going back.

“Anything else you wanna ask?” FP said, preventing Jughead from leaving it unsaid, as he had hope. With tears in his eyes and his heart in his throat, Jughead said the dreaded words.

“Did you have anything to do with Jason Blossom’s death?”

He bit his lip to keep himself from crying. Even FP was threatening to weep. His voice was a cracked whisper.

“You really think I could do that?”

“It’s the Dark Ages, dad,” Jughead answered. “I don’t really know what to think anymore.” And that was true. He was now best friends with a girl he might have avoided like the plague, and everyone was a suspect.

“I’m not a perfect father, Jughead. No getting around that. But… I’m no killer.”

FP had never said something that Jughead believed more. So, with that, they left.

Outside, the sky was pitch dark and the wind was bitingly cold, but Jughead didn’t care. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts and what this all meant, he barely noticed Betty was walking beside him, or when she tugged on his arm and pulled them both to a stop.

“Do you believe him?” she asked.

“I do,” he said, weakly. His voice had all but fled him, and his mood was implacably black. “Do you?” Though Jughead was not sure he wanted to hear her answer. Betty smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I believe you, Jughead,” she said, and even though that should have warmed his heart, the cynical side of him said that Betty still held doubts. Despite that, he pulled her in for a chaste kiss and walked towards home.

* * *

He knocked on the white, paneled door and was surprised to find it unlocked still. He stepped inside to find a half-decorated room, plates and cups strewn across all surfaces, and a tired-looking Veronica trying to make sense of it all. She looked up and saw him, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Sorry for disappearing earlier,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck just so his hands had something to do.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said courteously, gesturing for him to step further into the flat. “Everything was a bit of a mess, anyway, especially after Alice and Penelope left. Did you make up with Betty?” Jughead nodded, and Veronica gave him a weak smile. “And Archie?”

“Not yet,” he admitted, “but we will. We always do.” She nodded slowly and looked down, fiddling with the rings on her fingers for a moment. She seemed down. Jughead realised she needed a little cheering up.

“It was a great party, Veronica,” and that alone managed to make her laugh. “I’m serious. I was having a great time until everyone started trying to kill each other.” They both laughed at that, as Jughead stepped in to pull down some bunting Veronica was struggling to reach. “You need any more help?”

She smiled up at him gratefully. “Well, seeing as my mom passed out as soon as the last people left, that would be great.” They spent the next half an hour setting the apartment to rights, chatting and joking the whole time. By the time they dropped down onto the couch, the place was spotless and they were breathless with laughter.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” he asked suddenly, a question he had been dying to know the answer to since the party. She looked at him quizzically. “About my dad? And lying to you?”

“Come on, Jughead,” she said, as if the answer was blindingly obvious. “I am the last person to criticise. I get why you lied. I would have done the same. Besides, whose dad _isn’t_ into some shady stuff?”

Jughead thought for a moment. “Archie’s,” he said, and Veronica couldn’t help but agree. “Actually Betty’s too,” he realised, and that made her giggle.

“Well, mine is. So, trust me,” she said, earnestly, “there is no anger, no judgement. We are good. In fact, we’re great.” Her adorable, small laugh was infectious, as always. As they settled into a comfortable silence, Jughead looked around for something else to do so he wouldn’t have to leave.

His sea-green eyes found the perfect thing.

“So much unwanted food,” he said airily, focusing specifically on a few slices of cake that had gone unnoticed. “Would be a shame to waste it, wouldn’t it?” Veronica picked up on what he was suggesting, and got a mischievous glint in her eyes. Jughead had come to know that look well.

“It certainly would.”

_Peace. Hard to achieve, even harder to maintain. Ours would only last a night, as we laughed gossiped over slices of chocolate cake. The morning, as always, brought even more challenges than before. The silver lining was that FP Jones would step up at last, to help his old friend Freddie Andrews with a new, reptilian construction crew._

_But, the Coopers would not be so lucky. The revelation that Hal pushed Polly towards an abortion rocked the perfect family and exiled Hal from his home. And Polly… she would make a deal with some red-headed devils. A deal that could just cost her soul, if she wasn’t careful._


End file.
